^ 




»S 1074 
.B25 E7 
1888 
^opy 1 



EVENING MEDITATIONS, 




•>-> 



MA BOOK OF POEMS,» 



-BY 



ROXIE M. BARRETT, 



-OF- 



Gkoroia. 



p^signedi for th% Eat^rtalsiniemt of Sotb ©Idl aii€ 

Tfomng* 



GAINESVILLE, GA. 
THE BAPTIST SUN PUBLISHING COMPANY. 



^ 



EVENING MEDIT 



MM BOOK OF POEMS, 



/■^cwifO 



-BY- 



:ROXIE M. BARRETT, 



-OF- 



Georgia. 







GAINESVILLE, GA. 
THE BAPTIST SUN PUBLISHING COMPANY. 



\ 



PREFACE- 

That a book must not appear without a Preface, is one among the many es- 
tablished customs of the world:— therefore, I willingly submit to this customary 
ceremony. I am aware that Solomon has said that in "making books there is no 
end," that is to say of the wearijiess of the flesh, both to the writer and reader, 
yet, nothwithstanding this, and even the great number of books which have been 
written, and the still increasing spread of the book mania, I must be permitted to 
furnish the world's library with a small, yet additional volume. This small book 
of poems has been undertaken in consequence of requests long since communica- 
ted to the authoress, and frequently repeated that she would prepare this small 
volume for publication. 

Now, to the blessings of Him who "doth not despise the day of small things" 
is this book humbly commended. 

Author. 
Cleveland, Ga., July 13th. 1888. 






^ EVENING MEDITATIONS. 



^ 



i^ 



0M BOOK OF POEMS, 



•S^m 



-BY- 



ROXIE M. BARRETT 



-OF- 



Georgia. 



m 



f@3r thi© Eat esctaiasmeat @f Botto @ldl 



GAINESVILLE, GA. 
THE BAPTIST SUN PUBLISHING COMPANY. 




PREFACE- 



That a book must not appear without a Preface, is one among the many es- 
tablished customs of the world: — therefore, I willingly submit to this customary 
ceremony. I am aware that Solomon has said that in "making books there is no 
end," that is to say of the weariness of the flesh, both to the writer and reader, 
yet, nothwithstanding this, and even the great number of books which have been 
written, and the stiD increasing spread of the book mania, I must be permitted to 
furnish the world's library with a small, yet additional volume. This small book 
of poems has been undertaken in consequence of requests long since communica- 
ted to the authoress, and frequently repeated that she would prepare this small 
volume for publication. 

Now, to the blessings of Him who "doth not despise the day of small things" 
is this book humbly commended. 

Author. 

Cleveland, Qa., July 13th. 188S. 



)POEMS.p^ 



A Mother in Heaven- 



A mother in Heaven, what a peaceful delight, 

Where angels are touching their harpstrings so bright, 

And the fruits are all ripe and the waters run free, 

And there my sweet mother is waiting for me. 

A mother in Heaven, where blights ne'er can come; 
Where no storms ever howl, no clouds cast a gloom — 
Where angels are bowinsr, such glory to see, 
I know she is waiting, and watching for me. 

A mother in Heaven; yes I know she is there, 
For she wispered when dying "Oh I long to be there." 
Oh I long. Oh I long that bright mansion to see, 
For I know my blessed mother is waiting for me. 

A mother in heaven, in those mansions so fair. 
Where the redeemed of all ages, are gathering there, 
And there with the loved ones, she longed so to see, 
I know she is waiting, and watching for me. 

A mother in heaven, where no care and no j)ain. 
Can ever distress, or disturb her again. 
But to Him who redeemed her, her praises shall be, 
And I know she is waiting, and watching f(n* me. 

A mother in heaven, where cometh no night. 
For Jesus her Saviour, the fountain of light. 
Is tliere — Oh! such glory, for mortals to see, 
And mother is there now watching for me. 

A mother in heaven, with angels she vies. 
And sweet hallelujah's, she sings as she flies; 
She'll clap her glad wings, such glory to see. 
And Vm glad she is waiting, and watching for me. 

A mother in heaven, her passport was sealed, 
And she shouted "Oh happy" as swift she sailed 
Away from the shore, her blest Saviour to see; 
And blight is the home where she, waiting for me, 

A mother in heaven, where the streets are all gold, 
And the walls are nil Jasper, so bright we are told, 
And the harps pour forth melodies, soft, sweet a id free; 
While mother is watching so gladly for me. 

A mother in heaven, with her pinions so bright, 
She is watching so close, from her mansion of light. 



2 POEMS. 

She is i^uarding each footstep, so closely for me; 
And I hear lier soft whisper, I am waiting for thee. 

Yes, mother I know thou art waiting for me, 

For in raptures divine, thy face now I see. 

And I know that the gate, is now standing ajar; 

And my dear blessed mother, will soon welcome me there, 

[Composed by the author on the death of her much loved mother, Mrs. Ann 
Stephens, who died, Dec. 21st, 1SS2]. 



Spirit Dreaming. 



In my spirit now I'm dreaming. 
While the light of heaven's gleaming, 

Gleaming on my happy 80u\ 
Now I hear the angels singing, 
AVhile the vaults of heaven's ringing, 

Kinging with eternal praise. 

Through the air, the echos flying, 

And anon I hear them crying, , 

Crying here there is no gloom ; 
And bright golden harps they offer, 
Glittering crowns from Eden's coffers, 

Coffei*s filled with jewels rare. 

There the flowers never perish, 

And our loved ones there we'll cherish, 

Cherish with celestial love ; 
And our hearts are r-i'unite*?. 
And again our love is plighted, 

Plighted through eternity. 

Dearest Brother, art thou singing, 
Echoes and re-echoes ringing. 

Peons sweet from ransomed tongues; 
Dost thou long to see me crossing? 
While the angels bright are watching, 

Watchnig from the yonder shore, 

Xow the oars are gently lifting, 
And my hajjpy spirit's wafting, 

Waiting upward evei-more ; 
Come on loved ones, come u|) hitlier 
Sweetly whispers my blest mother, 

Mother's gained the happy shore. 

Now my feet the water's nearing, 
And the boatman now is steering. 

Steering for the nearer shore; 



POEMS. 



And I hefir the waters splashing 
And the boat is swiftly dashing, 

Dashing to this earthly shore. 

And my heart is all on fire, 
Quick to catch the golden lyre — 

Lyre set by angel tongues ; 
And beyond, I vsee her smiling, 
Now siie cla])s her wings — she's flying, 

Flying to conduct me home. 

Welcome, ho' e and rest forever — 
Quickly cross the narrow river, 

River intervening now ; 
See the golden gates fly open, 
And her happy spirit's waiting, 

Waiting to conduct me home. 

Yes sweet mother I am coming. 
My short race, I'm swiftly running. 

Running eagerly to gain 
That sweet rest, for which I'm sighing, 
Where with angels I'll be vie ng, 

Vieing round God's holy throne. 

Then I'll fall l)efore my Saviour, 
And I'll sing his praise forever, 

^T;Forever on that |)caceful shore ; 
There how loud I'll shout the story, 
Oh how great will be the glory, 
Glory through eternity. 



A WISH AND POEM, 



May he who blessed Jacob, bless thee too; may the glory of Him 
who appeared in the bush, shine; ah jut th -e; m ly he wh ) fed the five 
thousand, never see thee want,— He who wept, dry the tears—lie Vvdio 
is all, and in all, prove thee all, even unto death — and when thy tu.or- 
tal life is closing, may a life of inimorlality burst upon thee, and may 
He who sits upon the great white throne point out thy station and say, 
come up hither. 

Yes,fcome up hither, ye blest of the Lord, 

You have fought the good fight, you have preached my blest word. 
You have called poor lost sinners, the great and the small, 
Like the voice of a trumpet, from Zion's blest walls. j 

Yourjbreast-plate and helmet, who faith hope and love, 
Your.sword was my spirit that I sent from al)Ove, 
With^might did you wield it to thelonsumption of sm; 
Now a reward will I give you — ye ble^^sed enter in. 



4 POEMS. 

Work so untiring, through heat and through cold, 

O'er mountains — through valley's, through rivers untold, 

In mansion, in cottage, your voice you have raised; 

Crying, give God the glory, let Jesus be praised. ^ 

Is the harvest now ripe? — is the work now well done? 
Now count up the cost of the souls you have won, 
The banner waved proudly by thee, now is given 
To another, — that will wave it, for I call thee to heaven. 

Done with the c oss — yes, glory is thine, 
Done with sad tears, thy face now shall shine, 
Done with the world, with its tumult and care, 
Done with sad partings from friends that are dear. 

At the last day of reconing, with surprise you'll behold, 

The air that is thickening with spirits po bold, 

Coming up to bright glory, the souls you have won; 

Then breati^less with triumph, you'll receive your bright crown. 

L;ist oh ye ti'iumphs! yes mother has come, 

And clapping her wings, cries dutiful son. 

Then clasping thee, in her loving embrace; 

Cries thy Saviour is here, see his loving sweet place. 

Here's a crown of bright glory, oh, son take it now! 
Thy Saviour will place it, upon thy pure brow, 
And a pahn of sweet victory for labor you've done; 
And a harp, — sing and play it, thy glory's begun. 

Oh! farewell kind pastor, we bid you adieu, 
With eyes overflowing, with heaits that are true, 
May God ever bless you, where'ere yon mav go; 
And in heaven we'll meet you — oh pray for us too. 

[Respectfully inscribed to Rev. James P. Ramsaur, of the N. G., Conference 
and pastor of the Cleveland circuit in 1S84, in behalf of the church at Zion by one 
of the members there, prompted by the sad thought of parting with a beloved and 
useful pastor]. 



BROTHER,! WILL MEET THEE THERE- 

Brother, you asked me to meet thee there. 

In the land of the good, and the home of the fan-. 

Where sorrow ne'er comes nor sins ne'er distress; 
There to bask in God's love, and lean on his breast. 

Yes brother, thou knowest I will join in that bliss, 

Oh! is not that land far better than this? 
Where sickness, and sorrow, and blight ne'er can come, — 

Yes my hopes are all bright, we'll meet in that home. 

That laud of bright pleasure, wbet'e iiowers doth bloom, 
And there odor's are wafted — the sweetest perfume, 



POEMS. ___„„.^ H 

The zephyr's that fan us from Eden's sweet bowers, 
And the tune is not counted by weeks nor by hours. 

The light that doth shine, and the gloiy so bright, 

From a Father divine thatgiveth all light. 
Where the cherubims there in praises doth bow, — ■ 

Oh! I long for that glory— I feel it e'en now. 

Yes, brother, I'll meet you, when time is no more, 
I'll meet thee so gladly on canaan's bright shore, 

For it seems that the gate is now standing ajar, 

And the loved one's are waiting to welcome us there. 

And there with the angels we'll bow at His feet, 

And loud hallujahs with joy we'll repeat. 
Crying glory, and honor, and praise to His name, 

T'was for our redemption, the dear Lamb was slainJ 

Dear brother I'll meet tliee, where partings are o'er. 
Where distance divideth, our sad hearts no more. 

Then quick to thy breast, with joy will I flee; 
And sing as I'm coming, that Jesus loves me. 

We will plume our glad wings, and sing as we fly, 

Hosanna to Jesus, the King of the sky! 
And there with the loved ones, who are gone on before, 

And millions who are waiting to gain the bright there. 

We'll sing hallelujoih, the loved ones are found. 

And oh! with what joy, our spirits will bound, 
The angels will catch, the glad sounds as we ily. 

And echo, and re-echo, the saved of the sky. 

Then louder, still louder, the echo will ring, 

While the tallest archangel will clasp his glad wings, 

Till full of sweet rapture, rings heaven's high dome, 
The redeemed of the Lord are all gathering home. 

[Composed by Roxie M. Barrett, Nov. r882 for her much loved brother, James 
E. Stephens, and in respon.s« to u. request in his loving ietter asking her to meet 
him in Heaven]. 

PETERS DENIAL. 
[Lines suggested by hearing a discourse ably delivered by Rev. G. 
K. Quillan, from Luke 22nd Chapter and 61-68 versesat Zion Church 
Nov. sth I882. 

When Peter did his Lord deny, 
And to the maid said: "T'was not l" 
And v.'recklessly did curse and swear. 
To all that in presence were 

That he knew not his Lord. 

How wretche<l his backslidden state, 
How near the opening ruins gate 



POEMS. • 

He stood; unconscious of his awful state, 
Denying still his Lord. 

Another says: "It seems to me, 
This man must be from Gallilee" — 
But Peter turned, denied his Lord, — 
Just then the warning voice was heard, 
"Thou shalt deny me thrice." 

Then turning round he chanced to see, 
A face of loveliest purity ; 
And oh that piteous withering look, 
He stood, he trembled, then betook, 
Himself apart to pray. 

He knelt, he wept, his grief was wiM, 
Oh Lord ! forgive thine erring chdd, 
Blot out my sins of deepest dye. 
Blot out my sad iniquity, 

And make me purn for aye. 

Well might he weep, well might he pray, 
That look — as man 'twas sympathy, 
As God he looks— conviction's arrow flies, 
And Peter yields, and huml)ly cries, 
Lord save me or I die. 

'Twas very God 'twas very man. 
Both blended in salvations plan ;— 
He looked, ho would not call his name, 
For fear of bringing censure, blame, 
On that backslidden soul. 

That look upon the tablet of his heart, 
Was graven deep, 'twouhi not depart 
Until he meets his risen Lord, 
Then oh! what joy His smile affords; 
And everlasting love. 

Though Peter's sins the darkest were, 
He heard his cry, He answered prayer, 
And now his hajtpy spirit vies 
With the redeemed aI)ove the skies, 
With all the sanctified. 

May we .ill meet our pastor there, 
And each a crown of glory wear, 
AVith all the loved, who're gone before, 
And millions, millions, millions more, 
Who are waiting to go home. 



POEMS. 



THE BACKSLIDER RECOVERED- 



If heaven and earth were both combined, 
They could no other ransom tind, 
P'or guilty, wretched, lost mankind, 
But Jesus. 

Ah ! who my misery could tell ?] 
Oh ! who my torment could expell, 
Or save from sinking into hell. 
But Jesus? 

Who saw ray soul in ruin lay ; 
Who condescended thus to say, 
Come back, Come!back, this is the way ? 
'Twas Jesus. 

Who bade me to return again, 
And seek so that I might oVitain, 
That crowai which ever will remain ? 
'Twas Jesus. 

Who saw me sink beneath my grief, 
And quickly s])rang to my relief, 
And saved me, me only by belief ? 
'Twas Jesus. 

Who said thy sin's forgiven thee, 
Take up thy cross and follow me. 
And I'll thy God and Saviour be ? 
'Twas Jesus. 

Who cocld this load of guilt remove, 
And fix my heart on things above. 
And fill my soul with heavenly love 
But Jusus? 

Not all the men on earth below. 
Nor angels, could such mercy show 
Nor any save me from my woe. 
But Jesus. 

'Twas thou who died upon the tree, 
To save backsliders — such as me ; 
Healed all my wounds and set me free- 
Sweet Jesus. 

Although I wandered far from God, 

And trampled underfoot thy blood, 
Thou dost delight to do me good 
Dear Jesus. 



POEMS. 

I can't sufficient tribute bring 

To thee my glorious God and King, 
But now I will thy praises sing, 
Sweet Jesus. 

Lord help nie while I'm here below, 

Ifi all my works obedience show, 
For every grace thou dost bestow, 
Dear Jesus. 

And ^hen this mortal life shall end. 

May I in Christ behold my friend, 
My everlasting days to spend 
With Jesus. 

Then I shall ever, ever be. 

Both praising and aduring thee, 
Throughout a vast eternity, 
Sweet Jesus. 



The Last Resting Place. 



My meditation, as I walked through a large grave-yard, richly be- 
decked with flowers and marbl« monuments. 

My days may short, or numbered be. 

But when my happy spirits free, 
I ask no tear to damp the sod, 

When once my spirit's with my God, 

In realms of bliss, 

I ask no rose or running vine, 

Around my mouldering dust to wind; 

I ask no marble at my head. 

Where strangers often might be led. 

To read iiiy name. 

I ask no chisled verse to deck. 

The cold, the low, the mouldering wreck, 

I ask not fame my name to spread, 

When once I'm with the silent dead. 

There let me rest. 

I ask no costly robe to spread. 

Upon my breast when I am dead, 
I ask a plain a simple dress; 

To meekly fit me off to rest, 

When I am gone, 

I ask a true a lasting friend, 

A thought, a sigh, to sometimes lend, 
To sometimes visit where I rest, 



POEMS. 

And feel a calm within their breast, 

That I'm in Heaven. 

I ask a friend to mark m}^ tomb, 

Not by a myrtle's gaudy bloom, 
But by a willow which will spread, 

It's graceful branches o're my head, 

With mournful wave. 



THE Angel of death- 



T'was morn, the first rosy blush had deepened into a mellow gol- 
den light, trembled on the Eastern sky, casting a mystic Vjrightness 
o'er the dew-gemed landscape. Afar off in the unfathomable re 
gions of space, an angel forfii might be seen winging her way to this 
little globe that hangs like a drop ot golden dew, trembling in .the 
Heaven's, swifter and swifter still, speed the angel, until she reach- 
ed the earth, when she suddenly stoj)ped, and folding her snowy pin- 
ions turned a sad gaze on the surrounding scene. There was some- 
thing in the marble oountenance so death-like in repose, and the large 
deepest eye, that caused the beholder to shrink back with indescri- 
bable awe. In her right hand she held a small glittering scythe 
wreathed with fragrant white violets. 

It was but a moment she paused, and then with a gentle smile 
she drew the snowy folds of her mantle around her, and began her 
journey. The first that met her eyes was an affectionate mother, 
wee])ing over the wasted form of an idolized son ; his eyes were 
madly flashing, his lips parched, he was throwing his hands and tear- 
ing his hair in wild delirium ; his tender mother, in all the bitterness 
of grief, was kneeling by his couch, pi-aying for his life to be spared. 
irni)erceived by her, the Angel of Death crept noiselessly to the 
couch of the young sufferer, and drawing back the heavy curtains, 
she passed her icy hand over his heart ; the fever was gone, his heart 
was still — he was dead. The Angel paused but a moment to see his 
spirit take its glad flight, and then again wended her way through 
the forest, now bright with the rays of noonday sun. 

The next object that met her eye was a young man of brilliant 
tahmts, cultivated mind and noble appearance. She marked him as 
her victim. Must he fall? Must he be cut down in the pride of 
youth? His early, brilliant career closed in the dark shades of a 
lonely tomb. The loud applause of admiring friends be exchanged 
for funeral rites. Many had been the prayers of the man of God, a3 
he meekly pointed out to him the way of life and strove to guide his 
feet in the narrow way that leads to infinite bliss. All warnings 
were in vain ; all counsel disregarded ; he trusted to his mighty 
talents to save him ; he had lived without God in the world, and now 
death had come and he must meet his doom, though unprepared. 
Again the merciless weapon pierced the human heart — it throbbed 
no more, and the mighty man of the world passed away. A dark 



10 POEMS. 

cloud rested on the Lrow of the angel as she drew near a lighted 
mansion and listened to the revelry within ; there the wealth, pomp 
and pngaiitry of nations were exhibited — the music floated in 
through the open casemejit — now hold and high, now soft and low, 
mingling with voices that seemed to excel the minstrels in sweetness 
and melody, ech-oed and re-echoed from hall to hall until the revel- 
ers, bewildered with incessant mirth, rush to their goblets, which are 
full to overflowing with the sparkling wine that perhaps a hundred 
years had mellowed — silks rustled, plumes waved, jeweled embroid- 
eries flashed from Genoa velvets, mirth rang forth in merry peals, but 
the frown of the angel now darkened to a fearful shadow as she 
discerned amid that gay throng a haughty woman, splendid in ap- 
pearance, a scoffer at religion and an open reviler of the Word of 
God ; then gliding into that splendid mansion, she sped to the side 
of that proud creature and suddenly revealed herself to her alone. 
She watched with a stern sadness, her ghastly horror, her shrinking 
form, and heard, without relenting, her piercing shrieks for mercy. 
Swift the cold arrow pierced her heart and she fell into the so much 
dreaded grave. Again, drawing her mantle closely around her, the 
angel mournfully hastened from the terror-stricken room to perform 
the unpleasant task which now awaited her. 

Her next visit was to a grotto, near a soft-murmuring brooklet. 
There, reclining beneath an ample shade, were two sisters ; their 
faces wore a gentle smile, yet, still, there was a sadness in their full, 
dark eyes, that with the heavy crape dresses, showed too plainly 
that the Angel of Death had visited the happy home and had taken 
one of the number to the silent tomb. They were seated hand in hand, 
the younger resting her head on the arm of the older ; her long, dark 
curls were moved to and fro by the gentle breeze, and fell in rich 
abundance round her white dimpled shoulders. The gaze of the 
elder was riveted on the much loved form ; yet they were silent, and 
as the angel stood before them and beheld this scene, so sublimely 
imposing, she paused for a moment — it was mournful to strike 
down the lovely creature ; to twine the ice arms of death around the 
gentle form ; to close those bright expressive eyes ; yet the command 
had gone forth from on high, and, unseen by them, she drew near, 
and clasping the young girl's hand, gently drew her away; and then, 
swift as thought, the shining blade had felled the sweet forest flower, 
who, as she felt the fatal blow, shrank not, but welcomed the de- 
stroyer with a calm smile, not even looking back to comfort her 
agonized sistei", now all alone in the world — her freed spirit darted 
upward through the bright azure into the courts of heaven. 

Sweetly smiling, the Angel again went her way. But we cannot 
follow her on her unceasing journey through this sin-smitten earth 
and watch the fall of the gleaming blade, or witness the joy or sor- 
row of her victims. Let us prepari; to meet her — not as many sup- 
pose her to be — a relentless demon, but a gentle angel ; stern only to 
the unprepared, but melting in kindness to those who know her as 
she is. Let us welcome her, in her beauty as a friend, and her icy 
weapon will be harmless. 



POEMS. 11 

Yes harmless indeed, for she's sent from above, 
With a weapon severe, yet blended with love; 

She gently is smiling, with eyes dancing briglit, 
Her head is adorned, jessamin's white. 

She is flitting with pinions all glittering, and bright, 

Where the flowers rise blushing, from shades of the night; 

Where the songsters are clapi)ing their glad wings with glee, 
O'er forests so dreaiy, o'er landscape and sea. 

She stops for a moment, to look on the gay, 
Then touching a heart-cord, hies quickly away; 

Not waiting to pause for a moment to see, 
Hov saddened the face of her victim may be. 

Oh no, he's a sinner — I regard not his cry, 

His warnings were many, he passed them all by; 

He looked with disdain on the spirit of grace, 
Till she gently withdrew her loving j^weet face. 

She is out on the wing, 'tis the hour of night. 
Who in it she'll visit by the moons .gei:«tle light? 

The stars are all twinkling, with joy to behold, 
The spirit so lovely, so pure, yet bold. 

She has passed; she has folded hor pinions so wliite. 
How lovely she looks in the moons gentle light; 

She is creeping so gently from flower, to flower, 
From myrtle to myrtle from bower to bower. 

She gently aj)proaches the half open door. 

Did her.eyes]e'er_^ljchold sucli meekness before? 

She paused to behold the form pale and thin, 
'Twas coramanileiT by heaven, she must enter in. 

The lamps are all burning, the curtains are drawn. 

No voice can be heard, within^the^sad room; 
Upon a low couch a form may be seen. 

The loveliest, the meekest, that ever was slain. 

It was a young minister, whose race just begun, 
Was now to be called from his labors so soon; 

Death enters — Oh ! must she perfonn the dread task, 
Oh ! must she unsheath the cold weapon at last. 

She approaches the ccuch, he beholds she is near, 
He smiles to behold her he welcomes her there, 

His heart is now stilled, — his spirits free, 

And Angels, and s^oraphs, its comijanion will be. 



12 POEMS. 

AN Acrostic. 



Dread was the fearful task for thee, 
When that small voice first said to thee, 
Take up thy cross and follow me, 
And I'll thy shield and portion be, 

'Till Jesus calls thee home. 

Still trembling at the uplifted sword, 
You took God's law — thee Holy Word, 
And day and night you o'er it poured. 
Wielding with might the spirits sword, 

Seeking a bright reward 

Methinks I see the trembling stand, 
Before that little chosen band, 

While there with high uplifted hand. 
Imploring God by thee to stand, 

And teach thee what to say. 

Come near, come near the crucified, 
Come near and see his hands and side; 
It is for sinners he hath died, 

Behold, behold the crimson tide; 

'Twill make thee white as snow. 

Come rich, come poor, come bond and free, 
The atonement here is full and free. 
It is God's word I offer thee, 
Come take counsel now of me; 

And to thy Saviour bow. 

Urged here before you, not for gain, 

Oh! no, these words would give me pain, 
It is for Jesus who was slain. 

That precious bleeding, dying Lamb — - 
The boon I offer thee. 

Repent, repent ye fallen race, 

Look and behold his smiling face, 
Come, taste the riches of nis grace. 
Come, come the whole Adamic racf ; 

And own him conquerer. 

Rise tune your harps ye angels bright, 
And give God's servant courage, might, 
To ])ut the hosts of hell to flight, 
While heaven rejoices with delight; 

And calls thee to the skies. 



POEMS. 13 

Your voice may sound from shore, to shore, 
'Till sun shall rise and set no more, 
'Twill be thy theme for ever more, 
Upon that sweet that peaceful shore, 

Behold, behold the Lamb. 
Composed Aug. 3rd 1870. 



in memory of our little pet, 

Frankie Stephens- , 



\ 



How lonely and sad was each heart that day, 

How buried m bitter grief, 
As we knelt by the cold and senseless clay, 

Of an idol whose stay was brief. 

How closely we'd watched by the dying couch 

Of the sufferer where he lay, 
Little dreaming that death had silently crouched 

So close to his heart that day. 

But how could we weep at the angel's flight 
From this world of sin and gloom, 

Where pain and sorrow never blights, 
But all is eternal noon. 

There, flaming around God's holy throne, 

The sweetest cherub there, 
While the zephyrs from the archangel's wings, 

Doth fan his golden hair. 

Onward still, onward his flight shall be, 
While new glories still rises m view. 

And the golden gates fly open and he 
By seraphs, will be wafted through 

And as he passes each golden gate. 

He'll touch a higher key. 
Which will in heaven new joy create 

Through all eternity. 

Father, no more will he raise his arms, 

As if asking thee to go. 
With him to that world of matchless charms, 

Whore peace, like a river flows. 

With a ]>alm of victory in his hand, 

Ba])tizing his wungs in love. 
He calls thee to join that happy band, 

And whispers, "God is love. 



14 POEMS. 

And when yon are crossing death's cold, cold stream* 

And its turbid billows roll, 
He will clap his glad wings, and a light will gleam, 

Upon thy weary soul. 

And as nearer, still nearer as yon draw to the shore, 
More clearly his harj) you will hear. 

Then with anthems of joy, you will praise evermore, 
And triumph that Frankie is there. 

Then, clasping him in your loving embrace. 

Thy souls shall re-unite, 
And as up the shining way you trace, 

You'll outspeed the angel's flight. 

Then flying quickly to thy Saviour's feet. 

In eager haste thou wilt bound, 
The theme of redeeming love to repeat, 

While heaven re-echoes the sound. 

Composed by Roxie M. Stephens, October i6th, 1870, on 
the death of little Frankie Stephens, her only brother's oldest 
child, a bright -eyed little boy, aged two years and four months — 
the fiYit death in the family. 



Wanderer Rest. 



To my only brother 011 leaving home the second time for the ia.\ west. 

Thou hast wandered far from home. 
Where no light of love hast shone, 
Where disease hath often come ; 

None saying to our cherished one, — 
Wander rest. 

Far from those whose hearts are true, 
]>eating fondly now for you, 
Throbing oft with inward pain. 
Longing once to say again ; 
Wanderer rest. 

In foreign lands hast thou ever found, 
Lt>ve, like in our hearts abound? 
Where gentle words and accents flow. 
Whispering still in cadence low ; 
Wanderer rest. 

Mansions fair thou oft hast seen. 
Woodlands waiving, valleys green. 
Faces bright, and jewels rare, 
But none whispering anywhere. 
Wanderer rest. 



POEMS. 15 

There's a mansion thou mayeist fiii<1, 

Whose King, all severed hearts will bind, 
And thou within that home be blest, 
And angels wliisper, 
Wandei-er rest. 

There may "we meet, when time is o'er, 
And all our hearts unite once more, 
Where in that mansion we'll be blest ; 
And Jesus whisper. 
Wanderer rest. 



To My Sister. 



When far apart teaching school. 

The hours are sad, when I'm alone, 
When I've no friend to eheer, 

'Tis then I often weep and moan, 
When none but God can hear. 

'Tis when my heart is sad and lone, 

Sister I long for thee. 
Though we wander far from home, 

Thy face I long to see. 

And though we wander far apart, 
And ne'er each other see, 

Sister I'll clasp thee to my heart. 
And always pray for thee. 

Sister, wilt thou e'er think of me, 

When we are far apart. 
And though my face you cannot see, 

A sister's love impart. 

And if I'd chance to speak unkind, 
And clouds o'er spread my face, 

Yet fetill within my lieart tlier'd shine 
A warmer, dearer grace. 

Yes sister, I've a heart that,s true, 
Though this you know full well, 

A sister's heart l)eats true to you, 
Sweet sister, fare thee well. 



16 POEMS. 

The newspaper- 



I come, and light is on my brow, 

And power is on my arm ; 
I come, oppression's surest bane, 

And freedoms sweetest charm, 

I come, the captive's galling bonds, 

Dissolve before my ire, 
And nations deep in darkness sunk, 

Are lighted by my fire, 

I come ; the pure and balmy air 

Of liberty I breathe ; 
For all who follow in my ])ath. 

Bright freedom's crown I wreathe. 

I come, and loose the fettered band, 

As sunbeams melt the snow, 
And gentle streams of freedom then 

Throughout her borders flow. 

I come ; the widow's heart is glad, 

Lone orphans now rejoice ; 
And praise the God who granted them 

So powerful a voice. 

Through me they speak — all wrong and ills 

Must then be heard redressed ; 

For where I go, ho))e follows me, 

And fills each votary's breast. 



My reflection Beside Little 
Frankie'sGeave, 



A'l, all is lone and sad to-day, 

No footstep now I hear, 
I bow beside the sensless clay. 

Of an idol, by us held dear. 

And on the slab that covers iiis breast, 

I've laid my ])aper low. 
And wish with him I now was blest, 

Then I'd no sorrow know. 

But oh ! the heart that ever throbs. 
With woe's most maddening shrill, 

Of love and friends it now is robbed, 
And yet cannot be stilled. 



POEMS. 

Oh dearest brother, cloth thy heart 

J^re wander back, to see 
The little grave all set apart. 

And there bedecked for tliee .? 

Doth fancy paint her jrlitterint? wino-, 
And pierce the mystic gloon^, * 

And on her soft and dewey wino-s, 
Bring ordoivs from this tomb. 

Yet linger not by the sensless clay, 

But let thy heart arise, 
To the realms of everlasting day. 

Where grief ne'er dims the eyes. 

For all that's noble, all that's pnre 
Ls not enclosed there, ' 

To heaven 'tis gone, where all the pure 
Ihe haviour's love doth thare. 

Oh could'st thou brother ever think 

Of bidding hiin farewell. 
And never, never, never, drink, 

Of love unspeakable. 

No thou wilt meet him in the skies. 

When all thy sufferings o'er, 
In the sweet fields of paradise,' 
And meet to part no more. 
Composed March 10—71. 

To My ABSENT HUSBAND- 

Charlie the hours are long and weary 
When thou art gone from home, ' ' 

The days are long and dreary. 
Why do'st thou ever roam. 

When cares and sorrow press me, 

There's no one here to cheer, 
There's no one to caress me, 

Or calm, or quell my fear. 

But the thought of thee, dear husband, 

Is all I have to cheer, 
And look for the absent loved one, 

Until he doth appear. 

And shall it be dear husband, 

That we shall parted be. 
No more I'll call thee loved one. 

But cold in death will be. 



17 



18 



POEMS. 



Return, return and linger 
Around this lonely spot, 

Return and oft remember, 
Who shared thy humble lot. 

Remember then how often, 
I've clasped thee to ray heart 

Thy cares and sorrows softened, 
And bid thy gloom depart. 

Even when enemies oppress thee, 

Thy wife is ever near, 
When bitter wrongs distress thee, 

'Tis then her love doth cheer. 

Then let thy life in future, 

Be purer than the past, 
Wearing love's divinest features, 

And each sjain heaven at last. 



The Lonely grave. 



Here, beside the grave &o lonely, 
All alone, I meekly kneel ; 

All around looks drear and gloomy : 
Sad withm my heart I feel. 

On the slab my pa]ier's lying, 
And beneath a treasure dear; 

Yet 'tis not fur him I'm sighing. 
For of him I have no fear. 

For I know that far above me. 
Now his hapi^y spirit Hies; 

And I know that he will meet me, 
Where with angels now he vies. 

Round his grave I've planted flowers- 
Planted them with my own hand j 

But in Eden's peaceful bowers, 
Richest flowers deck the strand. 

There the flowers never wither, 

Never moulder or decay ; 
And I know his hands will gather, 

Flowers of everlasting day. 

Yet, still around his gv^Y^ I linger; 

Bedew the flowers V(i\];\, my te^r^. 
Still — ah still ! I wejl v^^member, ' 'I 

There is one I hold more dear. 



POEMS. 19 



While tears — hot, burning tears are welling, 
From a heart bowed down with grief ; 

A deeper gloom — my heart is swelling, 
And no one here can give relief. 

Far away a spirit wanders, 

P^ar from home and sisters dear ; 

And I often, often wonder 
If for them he sheds one tear. 

Sad indeed, and lone and dreary, 
Is the home once glad and free ; 
For each heart is sad and weary — 
All our hopes were fixed on thee. 

But all ho[)e, like grief, is idle, 

For we ne'er shall meet again ; 
But our grief we cannot bridle, 

And our tears cannot refrain. 

Who will comfort when you're dying? 

Who will kiss thy marble brow? 
Who will soothe thy heart from sighing? 

Who beside thee, then will bow? 

Who, with love's soft, gentle murmur, 
Will comfort thy sad, weary soul? 

Who than mothers heart be warmer. 
When in death thou'rt growing cold. 

Who will mark thy grave, sweet brother? 

Who will plant a flower there ? 
There'll be no sister and no mother 

There to damp them with a tear. 

But who, deal* brother — who will meet thee, 

When this life of toil is o'er? 
Who but sisters, then, will greet thee 

On that sweet, that peaceful shore? 

There we'll meet no more to sever ; 

And our soul's shall re-unite. 
There we'll live and love forever — 

There in heaven's unclouded light.' 

May 11th, 11 



MY THOUGHTS WHEN^RETURN- 
ING FROM HOME. 



To-day I went unto the church ; 
My steps were sad and weary : 



20 


POEMS. 




My past life there I did rehearse, 
The day was sad and dreary. 




i::>ome of my time has been misspent ; 

I know much time I've wasted — 
The preacher caused me to repent ; 

Then to the Gross I hasted. 




And when he told where Moses stood, 
To view the land of Canaan, 

And saw green fields and waving wood. 
And knew all these he's gaining. 




Then he described the glories there, 
And the joys that I once tasted ; 

I longed his glories there to share, 
And sighed for the time I'd wasted. 




And now I look forth with delight, 
To that bright land of glory ; 

There is no death nor curse nor night, 
But all shouts, ''Glory! Glory!'' 




It is my home — my mansion fair: 
There, there is all my treasure — 

My heart and my affection's there. 
And bliss beyond all measure. 




* * * * * * 




SPIRIT MUSINGS- 


Oh blessed land of peace and joy, 
Where blessings come without alloy. 
In that blest land where spirits go, 
And we are known as there we know; 
May I not take some pride up there, 
A little style and manners rare? 
Now spirit, gently whisper low, 
Oh do not, do not answer no! 




May I not take my judgeship^there? 
My power to sentence everywhere; 
Will all still listen when I speak? 
And give me homage that is mete. 
Will guilty forms stand cowaring there, 
And hear their sentence in despair? 
Oh spirit, hasten let me know! 
But do not, do not answer no. 




I come with tattered garments bare, 
I only ask God's love to share. 



POEMS. 21 

I have no costly robe to spread, 
I meekly bow my weary head, 
My heart is weary — feet all torn, 
Will God such weary children own? 
Now spirit answer — let me go, 

Oh do not, do not, answer no. 

****** 

There is a blessed land above. 

Where kindred spirits meet in love, 

But there no style of earth is known, 

No airs that you can well put on, 

No pride — one thought would j^sink thee 

down 
Beneath a father's righteous frown; 
Then striped of pride and self you'll go; 
I am compelled to answer no. 

You cannot take your judgeship there, 
And you'll receive your sentsnce there, 
In common dust you will lie down. 
Thus ends the title and renown; 
No one will^tremble when you speak, 
No one give you homage at your feet, 
But with the hireling bow thee low — 
I must, I can but answer no.] 

Come, come with tattered garments bare, 
For you a crown of gold shall wear, 
You'll need no robe for this great feast, 
You'll have a robe of righteousness. 
Your wearyjheadwill then find rest, 
And lean on Jesus loving breast; ^ 

I^am so glad, to let you know, 
I never never could say no. 



INMEMORY OF MISSMOLLIE LATNER- 



The rosebud has faded, the flower is gone. 

Snatched away unexpected in beauties brighter more. 
While the jessamine white, sparkled bright on her brow. 

The angel of death unperceived struck the blow. 

Her beauty was rare, but that was the least 
Of all of her charms; of heaven's behest. 

Her manners so winning, her voice was a charm 
To all that was round her; a comforting balm. 

Her young tender heart to Jesus was given, 

In the morning of life, she sought peace in heaven, 
The smile of a cherubim played on her brow, 



22 POEMS. 



Which was not defaced by deatli's icy blow. 

Weep, weep not fond parents for the young fairy flower, 
Is transplanted to bloom in Eden's fair bower, 

Her Bpirit loo pure, for this sin smitten earth, ^ 

She was caught up to glory, where sin ne'er has birth. 

With angels and seraphs, her spirit now vies, 
Crying victory, victory, as swiftly she flies, 

While a halo of glory, rests ob her fair brow, 
And the Angels in triumph to Mollie doth bow. 

She clasps her glad wings, and with joyous surprise, 
''Hosanna to Jesus" — she sings as she flies, 

Till full of sweet music rings heaven's high dome. 

Which echoes, and re-echoes. — I'm safe, safe at home. 



To My mother. 



Mother, s»veet mother, now I think 

Of thy pale brow to-day; 
And now my heart doth trembling sink, 

Yet I must stay away. 

Mother think not thy child forgets 

A parent fond and true ; 
Oh no! I never could neglect — 

My love is all for you. 

Dear mother, oft I thank my God 

For such a friend as true ; 
And when thy head's beneath the sod, 

I'll often weep for you. 

Mother,'! know that'I've done wrung, 

And wandered far in sin ; 
But gentle one, forgive this wrong, 

I'll never^^transgress again. 

And, oh! those bitter tears of grief, 
That trickled down thy face ; 

To think that I had caused that grief, 
My heart did almost break. 

Forgive, dear mother — do forgive! 

As God has me forgiven ; 
A holy life I intend to Uve, 

That we may meet in heaven. 

There we shall meet, sweet mother dear. 
Where parting is no more ; 



There God shall wipe away each tear. 
On that nelestial shore. 

mo'nZrFl'farfr.sl^^^''^"'' '-■'-' "-■'-• Sunday 

To My Sister. 



Sister, thou often comest to rae, 

In visions of the night, 
'Tis then I breathe my thoughts to thee, 

With a pure hearts delight. 

Oh sister! how I miss thy smile 

When I sm all alo-e, 
I long w th thee the hours to while, 

No love like thine hath shone. 

When morning's sun doth rise and shine, 

And other hearts are free. 
My spirit vainly yearns for thine ; 

I ask no friend bul thee. 

When the sun behind the western hills, 

Is sinking from my view. 
And I hear the ripling of the rills, 

They whisper still of you. 

When others round the fireside meet, 

Conversing gay and free. 
Exchanging words, and smiles so sweet 

My thoughts still turn to thee. 

And when I look around and see, 

That I am all alone ; 
There's not a kindred heart for me 

My heart feeli sad and lone. 

No sister speaks tp rae each day, 

In friendships loving tone, 
The clouds of care to chase avvay, 

And drive away the gloom. 

Composed by Roxie Stephens, February lo. 1867 for mv 
sister far away. j i / , ^i my 



The Reminiscence. 

Oh happy the hours with thee I've spent, 
Would they could longer last, 

Then to my feelings I'd give vent, 
And tell thee of the past. . ; 



24 POEMS. 

Willie, the hour that first we met, 

This day is fresh to me ; 
The wordtith.n spoken linger yet, ] 
[ Are they as fresh to thee? 

If T but knew, the future might 

Be happy as the past ; 
Plow happy every hour, and bright, 

And thus they'd always pass. 

Indeed, each hour would joyful be, 

If thou wert present here, 
A happy world 'twould be to me, 

If thou wert ever near. 

1 hen let all others scoff and scorn. 

If thou but smile on me. 
All other's love I'll idly spurn, 

If thou wilt faithful be. 

Composed by Roxie, by the request of a lady friend, to prescnt^to' her 
lover. 



Brother Farewell. 



Fare thee well my only brother, 
Must I say alone farewell? 
Oliljit makes my whole frame shudder, 
To think of bidding thee farewell. 

Fare the well — I cannot breathe it, 
'Tis an awful word to me; 
My heart, my tongue, my pen refuse it; 
'Twill banish that dear face from me. 

f Fare the well — I will' not breathe it , 
Though I know we part for aye, 
I must not, cannot, will not speak it 
Yet still I know thou cannot stay. 

Fare the well — would only linger, 
In my heart to give me pain, 
And each day each hour remember, 
That we ne'er shall meet agnin. 

Fare the well — is naught but sorrow, 
Added to a broken heart. 
And reminds us that to morrow, 
Only brings a deeper smart. 

When the sabbath comes dear brother, 
And thy heart is sad and lone, 
Think of sisters, Father, Mother, 
[That to three^would gladly come. 



POEMS. 25 

And when business cares oppress thee, 
And the world doth seem to frown, 
Think how gladly we'd caress thee, 
And with love heart would crown. 

If from sorrow we could shield thee^ 
If from care and bitter wrong, 
All our aid we'd gladly yield thee, 
Bowing ourselves beneath the storm? 

But we part, we part forever — 
Sealed the doom, and fierce the blast, 
But no storms, our hearts ean sever, 
We shall meet in heaven at last. 

* * # * * * 

When pain distracts our hearts no more. 
And farewell partings all are o'er, 
Upon that sweet, that peaceful shore. 
We'll meet, and meet to part no more. 

Composed by Roxie, M. Stephens Jan. 187 1, for her only 
brother whom she will soon bid farewell forever, as he is go- 
ing to the far west. 



My Brother's Return Home. 



Oh! could I now give vent to will, 
These fair pages now would till, 
But language now is all too weak. 
To express the joy of the past week. 

When my dear brother came. 

The morning's sun was shining bright, 
When I, to my sad heart's delight, 
Saw a lone soldier weary worn, 
Approaching his neglected home; 

It was his cherished home. 

But did I think when I looked up 
And saw a soldier's weary step, 
Walk slowly down the lawn; 
That it could be the cherished one, 

We'd looked so long to see. 

Yes, yes it was, and tears of joy, 
Flowed full and free from every eye, 
For every heart was filled to burst. 
With love for one we feared was lost, 

Yes hearts were arlad indeed. 



26 POEMS. 

And sounds of merry laughs were heard, 
As we met round the festive board, 
For each had brushed away a tear, 
And joyous smiles of mirth was there, 

For brother now was near. 

By Ro^ie, May 3rd, 1865 on the return of her only brother 
from the civil war. 



AN ACROSTIC, REV- M. L- UNDER- 
WOOD. 



Many bright and glorious hours, 

Is now thy portion fair, 
Zephyr's sweet from eden's bowerg 

Will drive away thy care. 

Lingering near the ceaseless 'ountain, 
Thy soul drinks peace and rest, 

While earthly cares though like a mountain, 
Nears thee to the blest. 

Under shades of earthly sorrow^ 

Beams the sun of light, 
Gloom to-day — but joy to-morrow, 

Drives away the night. 

Never wishing once to gather. 

Earth born treasures here 
No, but ever choosing rather. 

Celestial joys to share. 

Dreading not the fi-own of mortals, 

Wielding the spirit's sword. 
Pressing for a crown immortal. 

Preaching (4ods holy word. 

Earth has not the charms to win thee. 

From thy pleasing task, 
Far away the spirits call thee; — 

Crying home at last. 

Raising up the cross above tBee, 

Pointing with steady eye. 
Crying behold — lie hath redeemed thee. 

Oh sinners ! wilt thou die ? 

With voice of trumpet lond proclaiming, 

Sinners hear the cry, 
It is your guilt he is redeeming. 

Raise your trembhngeyes. 



POEMS. 27 

On wings of faith your soul is ikying, 

To your home above, 
And you hear the angels crying, 

Ood is lo\e. 

Onward, onward slili you^-o tlying, 

To your Saviour's side 
And bright sera))hs still are crying : 

Behold the crucified. 

Done with earth, and done with mortals, 

Your s])irit hies away, 
With cherubims youVe gained the portals, 

Of eternal day. 

RespectfuSly inscribed by Roxie M. Kanett to ihe memory of Miss Dora Ran 
kin who died in China; thougli a stianger, and never saw the dear young face of 
her sister in the bonds of christian love; but who desires one day, to see and know 
hef ill the "brighter, brighter" world above. 

One so lovely, so ])ure. Oh! why didst thou call, 
Oh why didst thou take her! the fairest of all. 
Her beauty the rarest, — her heart was a throne; 
For the dear blessed Jesus, he called it his own. 

Oh Father! why call her, IFrom her mission of love? 
She was pointing the heathen, to mansions aljove, 
VV^ith her gentle sweet sj)irit, she wood them each day: 
She led them to Jesus, and learned them to pray. 

She left her bright home, and the lovrd ones so dear, 
She trusted in Jesus, she felt he was near, 
She took a last look, at her o\v;n native land, 
With eyes overflowing, 8he<'la:$jied each dear hand. 

Then away, — for her mission in foreign lields lay. 
With a heart full of love she labored each day, 
With hands all untiring, she labored for (lod, 
With faith as unfaultering, she trusted his word. 

Yea weep not Miss Laura, and friends that were there, 

VoY your loss is her gain, in mansions more fail-; 

How honors*! you were, to hear her last words. 

When she w^iisjxred so meekly: "to inc (Tod's l)ecn so good.' 

Oh! could you not hear the rustling of wings, 
As round the young saint, the angels begin 
To gather? and fohl their soft ])inions so white 
To lake her to mansions of love, pi'ace, and light. 

She has finished her work, her labor of love, , 

Her mission is ended, she's landed above. 

She is gone to her saviour, the one she loved most, 

She died in sweet triumphs, she died at her ))ost. 



28 POEMS. 

Oh weep! wtep fond sister, thy grief is thine own. 
No other the loss of thy sister h^ith known. 
The loss of a sister so sweet and so ])ure, 
Can but call forth tears from a heart that is pure. 

Yet weep not as those who must sorrow in vain 
For in mansions of bliss, you shall meet her again, 
And there reunite where partings are o'er, 
And death and the grave shall divide hearts no more. 






My Brother. 



Brother, when thou art sad and lone 
And seeks thy humble,quiet home, 
When other smiles shall cease to cheer, 
And other hearts prove insincere. 

Then come to sister, come. 

When care and sorrow fills thy heart, 
And every charm shall prove a sinart. 
When beauty fades from every cheek, 
And all looks sad, and drear, and bleak, 

Then turn to sister, turn. 

Yes sister then will gladly cheer. 
And drive away each troubled fear — 
O! I will be thy lasting friend, 
And sooth thy care till life shall end; 

Then come to sister, come. 

Though sickness cometh like a blast, 
And shadows o'er thy spirit cast; 
Should fate demand each ray of joy. 
That flashes in thy youthful eye; 

Then turn to sister, turn. 

But should thy life be one of joy. 
And blessings come without alloy; 
Should riches strew thy pathway o'er, 
And all that's great should thee adore; 

Still turn to sister, turn, 

»-«-« 

AN ACROSTIC, GEORGE K- QUIL- 
LIAN. 



Grant me the privilige now my friend. 
Even to ask thee now to lend, 
One moment of thy precious time, 
Reviewing this small simple rhyme; 



POEMS. 29 

Great is the wish I'de mf\ke for thee, 

Earths greatest blessings poured on thee, 

Kings from their thrones might envying look, 

Qnlte eclipsed by thy far brow, 

Unto thee they fain wouhl bow, 

I would my pen more gifted were, 

Loud anthems long, and rich, and rare, 

Lasting unchanging, at thy shrine; 

I wish this for this friend of mine. 

And when you chance these lines to see, 

Ne'r quite forget,— but think of me. 



AN ACROSTIC. A- W- WILLIAMS 



A year has almost passed aud gone, 
Since first our humble Pastor came, 
To drive away all fear and gloom, 

From every breast. 

With what cheering words he too, 
Doth his rugged way pursue, 
And wish nothing else in view 

But giving rest. 

What could cause hira thus to rove . 
From a home where all is love. 
And to raise his voiceabove, 

In our behalf. 

In a field where thorns doth grow, 

Where strong tem]>tations winds doth blow, 
Where loving hearts doth sehlom glow. 
To light his way. 

Lingering near the Saviours side, 

Ne'r to aught but love allied, 

Pointing to the crucified. 

Our Pagtor^s seen. 

Linger near him angels bright. 
Sweetly cheer him day and night, 
Arm him saviour with thy might. 

To conqueer »in. 

In temptation's darkest hour. 

Be his God, his strength, his power. 
Be his everlasting tower, 

'Till heaven he's gained. 

Alas ! to think we soon must part, 

From thee kind pastor wounds our heart, 



30 POEMS. 

Yet if we choose that bettei- part.. 

We'll meet in Heaven. 

Miglity angels fold your wings, 
And lii-ten while he sweetly sings, 
Softly touch the golden strings, 

Of his Lyre. 

Sweetest seraphs often now, 

With dewy wings doth fan his brow, 
'Till every feature brightly glow, 
With love divine. 
By Uoxie Stephens, 1858. 

•-♦-• ' — • 

TO MY DEAR BROTHER. 



I would that I could always greet 

Thee at the morning light, 
And be permitted oft to meet, 

'Twould be my heart's delight. 

In fancy oft thou comest to me 
At morn, at noon, at night. 

And then thy smiles are dear to me, 
Tho^i art my heart's delight. 

A REFLKCTIOX. 

Brother as I look to-night. 
On each star that shines so bright, 
1 would wonder where thou art, 
With that true and manly heart; 
Brother canst thou do a wrong? 
By thy action or thy tongue? 
No — forbid each evil thought. 
That might arise within thy heart; 
And remember sister's near, 
With simi)le, yet with fervent prayer. 
Wishing, waiting, hoi)ing still, — 
Thou mayest conqueer every ill, 
And an upright christian be, 
Prepared for great eternity. 
Brother do not turn with sneers, 
From thy sisters earnest prayers, 
Never think I once would chide, 
No, but draw thee near my side; 
When thou goest to leave thy home, 
And to scenes more gay would roam, 
'Tis then I watch each parting ste]). 
And with quivermg trembling lips, 
'. Turn aside where none may see, 
; And in secret pray for thee. 



POEMS, ' 31 

AN ACROSTIC. J. P. RAMSAUR- 



Just at the morn's soft early dawnino-, 
When the eastern sky was gray, 
Come the spirits gentle \varning, 
Go yj forth to jj reach and pray. 

Preach my word, I'll give the power — 
Talents ten I'll give this day, 

SoAv and I will send thee showers — 
Go, show lost Isreal the way. 

Pepent, repeiit ye fallen nation, 
Sound it forth in thumler tones, 
Jesus — Jesus the ovulation. 
Hear Him agonize and groan. 

And as on the cross he's dyino-, 
Solid rocks are rent in twain. 
See the pagan God's are flying, 
Let the great Jehovah reign. 

May the s])irit's sword be lifted, 
Prayer the might that lifts it higli, 
Andwith love may it be gilded, 
Dipped in blood from calvary. 

Softly blow, sweet scented zephvr's, 
Round my Pastor's pathway lie; 

Glean, glean, ye jirecious "^heavenly reapers, 
Glean golden sheaves, raise cycles high, 

And may a father's hand be under 
Every footstep, on the way; 

May thy life be pnre,— a won<ler, 
Like Elijah in his day. 

Unheeding still the frown of mortal's 
On to victory be thy cry, 

Onward, upward gain the portals, 
Hail the ransomed of the sky. 

Pise plume your wings ye heavenly choir, 
Softly touch each tuneful key. 
Pastor catch your golden lyre. 
Praise, praise to all eternity. 

Brother, Will You Miss Me 
Then? 

Brother, will you miss me when I am o-one? 



32 POEMS. 

At morning, at evening, or at noon? 
When flowers like me are faded and gone, 

Brother, will you miss me then ? 

When autumn leaves are yellow and sear, 

And I,, like them have fallen here ; 
Will you then sigh and wish I were near ? 

Brother, will you miss me then? 

When sickness comes and wraps your form. 

And you are wrecked like a leaf in a storm ; 
Will you look round in your desolate home, 

And say: "I wish she were here?" 

When you are gay and your pulse beats high, 

And pleasure's throng are gathering nigh ; 
Will you look on all and then heave a sigh, 

And say: "I wish she were here?" 

Brother, when j'^ou see my empty chair, 

i\nd see no smile doth meet thee there ; 
When there's no love to comfort or cheer. 
Oh ! brother, will you miss me then? 

And when you think that I cannot come 

To you again, to gladden your home, 
And you feel weary, and sad, and lone ; 

Brother, will you miss me then? 

And when in wicked crowds you rove, 
Will you not think of a sister's love, 
That fain would woo your heart above ; 

Brother, would you miss me there? 

Or would you careless turn aside, 

Your wicked habits all abide. 
And press thorn closer to thy side ; 

Oh ! brother, forget me then. 

And if you should ever bow in prayer, 

You may know that youi- sister's spirit 's there, 
Guarding you safely through every snare ; 

Brother, could you miss me then ? 



ALONE AND SAD. 



Oh ! dearest brother, I am here, 

Alone and sad to-day ; 
I long for thy sweet presence here, 

But yet I still must stray. 



POEMS. 33 



The days a-e sad and weary now, 

When I ara all alone, 
P'rom place to place I wander now, 

But cannot wander home. 

Thy voice of friendship how I miss, 
Whsn others harshly speak; 

Thy looks of love and" tenderness. 
Thy words so true and sweet. 

Yes brother, you may w^-ite a line. 

And say when I am sad, 
My weary heart will turn to thine, 

Whose love doth make me glad. 

A tear will oft unbidden rise, 

When I am all alone; 
And dim my weary achinjjf eyes. 

To think of thee at home. 

P'ain brother would I turn to thee, 
When my daily task is done; 

Yes, yes, how happy I would be, 
To dwell with thee at home. 



AN ACROSTIC, W. L. CANTRELL. 



With hands of friendship now I take, 
My pen in hand and for thy sake; 
Write a few lines of verse for thee, 
1 hat in a future day thou'lt see. 

That I am still thy friend. 

Long years have passed since fii-st we met. 
And many suns have rose and set; 
And many friends passed away. 
And yet we're living both to-(lay 

And still we're friends. 

Could a care e'er cloud thy brow. 
That is bright and sunny now; 
Could a shadow linger where • 
All is brightness pure and fair?- 

ForI)id it e"re sliould be. 

And if sorrow e'er should come. 
Still for joy there will be room; 
Though clouds doth veil the sun to-day, 
Tomorrow they will pass away; 

And all be bright aga'n. 



34 POEMS. 

'Neath the runnino; rose's vine, 
Garlands sweet for thee are twined, 
Neath the myrtle's lofty boughs, 
Thou shalt spend sweet hapjty hours, 

With thy friends. 

The twilight hours Avill sometimes come 
"When on thy heart there'll rest a gloom; 
Tlien g-ct these lines, long laid away, 
And think upon the brighter day, 

When we were friends. 

Iveturn on fancies glittering wing, 
Whcn-e thwu hast passed, and sweetly sing 
Of happy hours now passed and gone. 
For time doth roll unwearied on. 

And still we're friends. 

Exj>and thy wings, sweet dreams past, 
And give bright sketches that will last; 
Give dreams of present, future joy,] 
That's i)ur(.' and true without alloy. 

And sa}^ we still are friends. 

Linger sweet cherubim s of light, 
IJest, cheer him in thy onward ilight; 
Rest, and baptize his soul with love, 
Which on y fcaints caii know above, 

Where all are 'riends. 

Long ere these lines shall fade away 

Angels may waft us both awa^ , 

To "climes of ever lasting day. 

And then on golden harps we'll play — 

In Heaven we're friends. 



SORROW MUST COME. 



Thei e is no home so bright and fair, 
liut there will come a cloud of care, 
Ikit there will come dark, drear hour; 
Which to prevent we have no power. 

There's not an eye beneath the sun, 
So bright that tears will never come, 
So bright so dancing and so gay, 
That tears will ever stay away. 

There's not a heart so blythe and gay, 
That's ever glad, and thus can say: 



POEMS. 35 



No sorrow in my hoart can bo, 
]\[y life [ti one unruffled sea. 

There is a pang, a bitter smart, 
Inclosed within the gayest heart, 
Some moments when it heaves a sigh, 
E'en when the gayest fi-iends are nigh. 

There is a time when we are sad, 
A tim J when we feel gay, and glad, 
A time when all our hearts are free, 
And beating joyous, full of glee. 

Kind friends may cheer us for an hour, 
Yet still can never have the jiower 
To bid each gloom departed be. 
And let each heart be always free. 

No one but (^od can give this peace 
And give our hearts a sweet release, 
Then let us quickly turn, and tase 
The riches of redeeming grace. 



AN ACROSTIC, J. E- STEPHENS 



Just as the lovely sabbath morn, 

First brightened up my way, 
I felt that fate had rudely torn 

Thee, from my side to-day. 

Each hour, each moment slowly glides, 

When thou art far away, 
I loved thee more than all beside, 

Why didst thou ever stray. 

Still in my ear, hope whispers low, 

In love's soft gentle voice. 
That we may meet again below — 

That maks.8 my heart rejoice. 

The flowers of spring may bloom, and blush. 

In g(»rgeous binu,hc array. 
Yet every scene of joy is hushed, 

In my sad heart to-day. 

Earth hath no charm for a lonely iieart. 

When the light of love is gone. 
When all that sweetens life — departs 

And leaves nie all alone. 

Perhaps from a stranger heart to-day. 
Thou wdt gather peace and re.t; 



1 


36 


POEMS. 




But it will not cheer, it will not stay, 




Like that from a sister's breast. 




How oft when I'm in slumber bound. 




Do I meet thee, brother dear; 




An:{ then thy voice, how sweet it sounds 




In my anxious waiting ear. 




Each word of love is treasured up, 




Waitinif for thee to come. 




To sip from pleasure's bnming cup; 
I will then forget all gloom. 




Nevei-, oh brother! ne'er forget, 




Thy sister true, and tried, 




I know thou never cans't forget 




Or wander from my side. 


i 


Shielil him, Oh God! ray brother shield. 




And guidj him safely home 


f 


May he ne'er to the tempter yield, 
But win the perfect goal. 


My Wish. 


Oh how I wish I was a bird, 


;!i 

; i 


With soft and glittering wing; 

I'd quickly fly where steps are heard. 

And there I'd sit and sing. 


i : 


And I, this morning while the sun 




Is shining pure and bright, 

Would quickly to my brother come, 




And there would rest till night. 




I then would quickly fly to him, 
And on his shoulder light, 


j 


And there so gently fold my wings, 


1 
j; 


And guide eadfi 'foot step^ right. 


f 


i\nd if to right, or left he str^iyed, 


'[ 


1 would fan him with my wing, 


1' 


And say so quicj<', 1 rim afraid 


i 


That is the road to sin. 


, 


But as I am no bird to-day. 




I must remain at home. 




And for my brother humbly pray, 
While I am all alone. 


r 
1 
r 


And to a throne of grace this hour, 




I humbly raise my voice, 


■ 1 



POEMS 37 



And ask a strong protective power, 
God help him make thiB choice. 



AN Acrostic, S- p. ramsaur- 



Jnstice makes the stern demand, 
See him frown, Oh see him stand I 
Sword nphfted glittering' there- 
I will no longer sinners spare, 
They've slighted offered grace, 

Pitty stands and fold>? her wings, 
Now yhe weeps, and now she sings, 
Tries to sheath the sword again; 
Pleads, and cries, hut all in vain I 
To save poor fallen mars. 

Rise np Oh mercy! rise to-day. 
Point to the cross of calvary, 

Point to his bleeding, hands and side, 
It is for sinners He bath died; 
Oh I shall he die in vainr' 

And now he pleads, go, go with me, 
Go to the garden of Gethsemane; 
Go see the brow, where on it stood 

Great drops of sweat, as if 'tvvere bIoo(3, 
And there he knelt and prayed. 

My father hear me, let me ask, 
If 'tis thy will Oh let it pass I 
This cup so bitter, not my will. 
Thy will be done, the law falfill. 
And save a ruined world. 

t*ee, see him there so meekly bow; 
He takes the cross to calvary's brow, 
I hear the pondrous hammer sound. 
As there the precious feet are bound. 
Unto the shameful tr^c. 

And see hhn as the cross they've r3i:ed. 
See, men and devils all can gaze,. 
A sspectacle, as if unfit 

For either world He takes a sip. 
From out that bitter cup. 

Unselfish — hear Him cry and gr(7an, 
Three dreadful hours in pain He hung. 
He wept. He bled, He died for man, 



38 POEMS. 

lie made complete, salvation's plan, 
So full, so great, so free. 

Redeemed, — 'tis finished, hear liim cry, 
Up to his father's courts he files 
Oh! shout for joy ye heavenly host; 
-Shout ye redeemed, ye luve Ilim most, 
Shout, shout, the cross, the cross. 



The Yonah Mountain, of 
White county Georgia- 



With towering majesty the Yonah lifts her head, 

Far, far above the plane, 
While down below, the river seeks an humble bed. 

Her fieedom to retain. 

How many have climbed to its dizzy hight, 

To seek for pleasure there. 
While still in its depths so far from sight. 

The hidden treasures are. 

There, there where the beasts of the forest may hide, 

In caverns deep unexplored. 
From cave to cave, or'e the mountains side. 
They conseal their treasured hoard. 

And there, on the top of this mountain high, 

Hath the man of God arose; 
And raised his heart, his voice on high, 

And the will of God disclosed. 

And there where his voice rang out so clear 

On the pure maintam air. 
He tried the mourners heart to cheer, 

By telling him God was there. 

And there with a heart, still burning with love, 

He raised his pleading eyes, 
He tells of the joys of his home above — 

That sweet home in paradise. 

And there from the sacred volume he took 

The words God handed down, 
And there by an eye of faith he looked 

And saw an immortal crown. 

Then again from the top of the dizzy hight, 

A prayer again arose, 
Till the heavenly hosts had gathered nigh. 

Before the prayer was closed. 



POEMS. 39 



And round this mountain as in days of yore, 

Celestial spirits thronged, 
And alight of love from the heavenly shore, 

Lit up the enchanted song. 



an acrostic— shall we be 
Happy- 



Shall a bright and glorious beam 

Hover round, while reapers glean? 

And a light, a heavenly ray, 

Long our pathway ever stray? 

Listening angels shall attend. 

Where the light of joy you send, 

Ever breathing peace and love. 

Blessings tiownig from above. 

Ever crowning with success, 

Harvests rich of righteousness. 

And bright crowns of gohl be given — 

Paradise and rest in heaven. 

Praise, praise my God ye heavenly host, 

Yet I must shout, 1 love him most. 



rev. w- f-and g- k- quillian- 
Their First sermon To- 
gether- 



It was a calm bright Sal>bath day; 
There was a scene that met my eye, 
It was sublime, imposing too. 
Which now I'll mention unto you, 

With my unworthy pen. 

It was a scene that touched me so, — 
Can I forget, — though years ago — 
That day; within the house of God, 
Listening unto his holy word. 

It seems but yesterday. 

Two youthful forms of noble mien, 
Close by each other s side were seen, 
There knelt in prayer, close side by side, 
The fathers joy, — the mother's pride, 

The source of joy, and love. 

They rose from prayer, their faces bright, 
As noon-day sun's bright golden light. 
No smile of proud ambitious sneer. 



40 POEMS. 



But christian love, and Godly fear, 

Adorned each youthful brow. 

Then from the sacred desk they poured, 
God's holy law, the ts{)irits sword. 
And there explained salvation's plan. 
To wretched lost, and ruined man, 

To guide him home to heaven. 

May angel hands with folded wings. 
Attend them while they preach and sing, 
And guard their youthful forms with care. 
Through every danger, every snare, 

On life's tempestuous sea. 

And when their woik on earth is done, 
And many souls to Christ they've won, 
May kindred spirits from" above. 
Attend with lucent eyes of love, 

And waft them home to heaven. 



To My Friend Miss Mattie 

QUILLIAN- 



Mattie, the hours are sad and lonely yet. 
Although long weeks have passed. 
That school-room I can ne'r forget, 

So long as life shall last. 

There child-hood's hours I spent in glee. 
And innocent delight; , 

Where thought, and word, were never free- 
I never dreamed of blight. 

Long Avearied years had rolled away. 
Childhood had long been passed. 

Some hours were sad and some were gay. 
Yet all is peace at last. 

Again in woman-hood I cane 
Unto that old school room, 
Though time had plainly written change, 
Yet still there was no gloom. 

And there I spent the hours ^f spring, 
Which ne'r shall be forgot; 
The sweetest songsters there did sing 
Upon that hallowed spot. 

Oft, oft, kind school-mates there I met. 
And classmates ever true — 



pop:ms. 41 

Your voices sweetly linger j^et, 

Your faces jdaiu to view. 

Ill still, soft, hours of the night 
I once more turn to thee, 

When darkness gently vails the light, 
Oh ! then I dream of thee. 

And to the morning's gentle breeze, 
Fancy unfolds her wings, 

Andfrom that hallowed spot each breeze 
The sweetest pleasures bring. 

Now good-bye Mattie — school-mates to o, 
I bid you all adieu, 

I cannot sa^^ farewell to you, 

I only say adieu. 



The — Light of Love- 



Oh ! 'tis in vain to dream of bliss. 
When the true light of joy is gone; 
When all that sweetens life is fled. 
And left us desolate and lone. 

How faint the smiles that light the eye, 
IIow soon their fitful gleams depart. 
When searching through the crowd we find 
No answering smile, no kindred heart. 

And when in gay discourse I strive 
To blend the feelings of my soul, 
'Tis all in vain, thoughts turn to thee, 
Like trembling needles to the pole. 

As some stray bird from foreign cage 
Dismissed; when long it mourns its fate, 
A\"ith fluttering joy and homewaixl haste, 
Wings tor the bosom of its mate. 

My weary^cxiled heart so long, 
3Iid selfish crowds condemed to st;iy, 
Would gladly burst ils i)rison bars, 
And t(.) thy presence flee aw:iy. 

Welcome the hour \\ hen slumbei- calls, 
When fancy roves unchained and f ec, 
When distant forms are hovering nigh, 
And I can sweetly di-eam of thee. 

[iVutlior uid<nov,'n.] 



42 POEMS. 

TO My friend Mr. Robert L- 

WITH Whom I ascended 

THE Lofty Yona 

Mountain. 



Tis morn — the sun hath risen high, 

In glorious bright arr.13^, 
Which calls our hearts, oai- voice on high, 

To praise the God of day. 

And now, while I am all alone, 

And thought is ever free ; 
I'll think of pleasures past and gone, 

And then remember thee. 

I'll think of the day so pleasantly spent — 
Of the hours so bright and gay; 

As up the mountain we slowly bent, 
And ascended the rugged way. 

From rock to rock, from cliff to cliff, 

In merriment we roved ; 
Still looking down to the dark abyss, 

Where our feet before had trod. 

There were masses of rock of every size, 

CJompacted together there ; 
While ever and anon the eye did rise 

To objects still more fair. 

At last we arrived — the summit was gained ; 

And oh! the bewildering sight! 
To look far below at the valleys and plains, 

Which seemed so bewitchingly bright. 

On the right, on the left, and on either side, 
Were mountains still rising to view ; 

Till their lofty summits appeared to the eye, 
Like fringe on the azure blue. 

Then wrapped in a shroud of airy cloud — 

Reminding us of Elijah's day ; 
When on the mount of ascension he stood, 

And was wafted to eternal day. 

Then slowly we descended — step by step. 
The foot of the mountain regained ; 

And I remember those ha])py hours yet, 
Though we ne'er may meet agam. 



POEMS. 43 

Brother I am lonely- 



The rain witli ceaseless patlering falls, 
Upon the brown, the moss grown walls, 
And I alone am mushighere, 
By the dim light, through loving tears. 

Oh where are all that's dear to me, 
I'ved looked around but cannot see, 
The smiles on those bright faces now. 
Where love was stamped on every brow. 

What is it that I miss so much ? 
la it a fond mother's gentle touch ? 
Or a father's earnest voice ? 
Or a sifter of my choice ? 

No none of these can tell my care. 
None makes me happy anywhere. 
None can true pleasures ever give 
While yet in sin my brother lives, 

I ask a beam of heavenly light 
To rest upon his soul to-night, 
And drive away each wrong, each sin^ 
IMiat in his heart hath entered in. 

Yes brother, this is all my care, 
To see thee fit, and fully share, 
The blessings God designed for man, 
In free salvations precious plan. 

Oh how my heart would then rejoice, 
To see thee make that better choice, 
So when this life of care is o'er, 
Vo«''ll leach that happy, blissful! shore. 

There crowned among the pure and blest, 
A life of joy, a life of rest, 
A palm of victory in thy hand, 
A shining angel there to stand. 

Farewell old Year. 



i^^'arewell old year thou now art gone, 
And many joys and sorrows fled; 

How shall I spend the one to come? 
With joyous heart, or feelings sad. 

Regret will Sfty, sad, sad farewell, 
But joy as quijk will rise, 



44 


POEMS 






Regi-et will say, dark is tho spell, 
Joy wipes my stveamin/if eyes. 

Regret will say^look on the past \ 
Thy sins how high they mount, 

But joy dothjsay those sins are past 
IJehold, — they've blotted out. 

Regiet rloth lead'me to l}se";past, 
W&i'ire gloom jher mantle spread, 

Joy whispers quick, thatjdid not k'st, 
And soft unveils iny head. 




! 


Now brighter memories joy doth bring. 
Of hours of peace -jand rest. 

My weary soul to him I'd bring, 
And lean on that dear breast. 


• 


A BEAUTIFUL SCENE- 


The rain is falling soft, and slow. 

The sun is sinking fast, 
The aml'cr clouds doth brightly glow. 

The <l;iy is almost past. 




The rain drops dancing with <]elight. 

Doth hiss the setting sun. 
While be doth smile with radiance bright 

When his race is almost I'nn. 




i 


The timid ilowers doth lowly creep 
Ijeneath the myrtles Vfild, 

And sweetly bow their heads to weep.^ 
While the roses blu»h and smile. 




i 
i 


The sun is gone and lovely night, \ 
With her soft hours have come; 
An imgel in its swiftest flight. 






Might linger here to roam. 






The m.!)on is rising \\i the east. 
With h(T earnest look of love, 

And softly through each bower creeps. 
Where thonglUf Lilly we rove. 






How calm an hour is this, and sweet,. 
Where thought is ever free. 

When we can distant spirits- meet. 
Of those we wish to see. 






To sweetly name each dewy flower. 
And link their names with love. 





, 


' ' ^ 


POEMS. 45 




While angel wings tlotli fan the bowers?, 
With zephyrg t'roni abo»'. 




Memory so faithful to her trust, 
To us bright visions bring; 

While seraphs near in moonhght rest, 
With devvdrops on their wings. 




Oh, then, how sweet to kneel in ]irayer. 




And raise your voice on high ; 
And pray for absent friends elsewhere, 
By faith to draw them nigh. 




Touch, touch your golden harps above. 

Ye shining angels bright ; 
Touch every golden string witli love, 

To praise the God of night. 




Oh, think of MeI 


'Tis always in the early morn, 
When thought is ever free ; 
• I'd ask thee then, what eev the storm.; 
To turn and think ef me. 




And when at noonday yon recline, 
Beneath the tall green t ee ; 

An<l feel the cheering power of spring. 
Oh, then, remember nio I 




And when at twilight's happy hour. 

Thy heart is full of glee. 
And flowers bloom within thy bower: 

Tbei) turn and think of me. 




And when at night you cahuly rest. 




From care and sorrow free ; 
When balmy slumbers fold thy breast; 
Then think and dream of me I 




Evening thoughts. 


The sun is sinking slowly, 
Behi)id the western hills, 

And I, alone, am sad and lonely. 
While tears my eyes dOth fill. 




My mind is busy with the past. 
While dark the rhadows roll, 




And clowdij my eye of faith ai> l:»ist ; 
I^ord, save my trembling soul 1 


I 



46 POEMS. 

Now thinking of the present, too, 
With all its stubborn truths ; 

Lord, help me now — thy spirit woo, 
And oive me brifjhter views. 

But O, thou future ! Great thou art ! 

'With light, or shadow's gloom. 
Lift — lift the veil — the light impart, 

And let me know my doom. 

For if I could the future know, 
I happy hours might see ; 

If not, perchance, 'tis better so, 
That it is hid from me. 

For I might more of sorrow know, 
Although the past be sad, 

The future may be full of woe ; 
If that be so, I'm glad. 



Life, death and Eternity. 



Life--its cares; Death — its embarrassments; Eternity— its 
everlasting happiness^ 

Life — -what is it? for it lasts 
As though 'twere but a dream ; 
Its sublunary pleasures pass. 
And scarce by us are seen. 

What is there in this dull short life 
To court us here to stay, 
For there is little here but blight; 
Throughout the happiest day. 

When e'er we spend a happy day, 
There's sure to come a gloom. 
Our friends are gay with us today. 
Tomorrow in the tomb. 

Thus death doth come with his cold grasp. 
Dismay doth spread around, 
Gloom, disappointment's ours at last, 
Where love, and joy, were foutid. 

Death grim death we fear thy presence, 
Thy long arm so pale, and cold. 
For thou fearest not King or peasant, 
With poor, and rich, alike thou'rtbold. 

What e'er the hope, Oil happy christian ! 
The thought of death will cast a gloom, 



POEMS. 47 



Although so near in sight of Heaven, 
Yet still between, there is a tomb. 

Though all alone we face the monster. 
Angels will meet us on the shore, 
Christ be with us — death we'll conquer; 
Victory our's forever more. 

In contemplation of the glory, 
Of that bright that peaceful shore. 
Where the ransomed shout the story 
Praising, praising, evermore. 

Eternity, — how sweet the whisper^ 
In the christians dying ear 
Gently breathe it, heavenly lisper, 
There's no weeks, no months, no years. 

But eternity, no thought can measure, 
Beginning ; never knows an end. 
Love, and joy, and jjeace and pleasure, 
Never, never, never ends. 



I Will be Happy Then- 



When all the rain is passed and gone. 
All clouds dispelled, there is no gloom ; 
When all the thunders hushed to sleep, 
And no more lightnings blaze the deep, 

I will be happy then. 

When there's no frost to fill the air 
No flowers blighted that are fair; 
When there's no ice, or snowy bed, 
To make the flowers droop their head, 

I will be happy then. 

When there's no heated summer's sun. 
To parch the grass, and wilt the corn ; 
When famine holds no withering grasp. 
But plenty's ours alone — at last; 

I will be happy then. 

When enemies no more shall harm, 
And give our friends so much alarm ; 
When they can never more again 
Make enemies of our best friends, 

I will be happy then. 

When envy no more finds a breast, 
In which to hide, in which to rest. 
When he can no more have the power,' 



48 POEMS. 



To cause one dark, one Ititter lioiir, 

I will be biijipy then. 

AVlu'U jealousy doth never reign, 
Within a heart, to give it pain; 
When all ean see with unclouded eye, 
And never, never heave a sigh, 

I will be happy then. 

When duath can no more come and blight 
And take the loved ones out of sight; 
When he can no more cause the old 
To weep o'er forms so |)ale and cold; 

I will be happy then. 

When we shall meet in realms above, 
Where all is joy, peace, and love; 
When we shall meet to part no more, 
Upon that happy glittering shore; 

I will be happy then. 
»~-«~^ 

A Trace I Leave- 



Composed and written in my dictionary; when at scliool 
witli a pencil. 

There is a blank, an em])ty space, 
On which I now will leave a trace, 
Where I have been. 

And when you read each penciled line, 
On which the sun may n«ver shine. 
Within this book. 

Then you may look within tlie gloora 
And thinl.; I'll soon be in the tomb, 
Where all is dark. 

But then my soul immortal is, 
Which ever, ever more must live. 

Or sink to hell. 

Then as my soul is but a spark. 
That's only hid as in the dark, 

To rise again. 

Then I must live so that my soul 
Will rise all purified like gold, 

At that great day. 

Then you'll Remember Me- 

When other smiles thine eye shall please, 
And yoii are won with graceful ease; 



POEMS. 49 



When other words more free may flow, 
When other eyes more brightly glow; 

Then you'll remember me. 

When you behold the young and gay, 
And feel no warning of decay, 

When beauty bows before thy throne 
And you can claim it for thine own; 

Then you'll remember me 

When other hands you clasp so tigiit, 
And with a pure heart's delightj' 

You gaze upon the beauteous one 

That now thy heart has sweetly m^ou; 

Then you'll remember me. 

And when you claim another's heart, 
Thy joys are pure, thy fears depart; 

When you have won another's love, 

That would constrain thy heart to rove; 
Xhen you'll remember me. 

But should they ever speak unkind, 
To trouble that pure heart of thine, 

Then you will think of pleasant hours 
That you have spent within my bowers 
Then you'll remember me. 



Why is it So? 



When we are wild and careless stray, 
When we misspend each blessed day. 
When we reflect, our hearts Avill say; 
Why is it so? 

Why is it that we still refuse 
The sacred scriptures to peruse, 

And then we sigh, — and still we muse; 
Why is it so'/ 

Why is it that we still pursue, 

The ])ath of wrong, when well we know 
That to eternal wi-;ith we'll go; 

Why is it so? 

And when we know that ))eace awaits 
The faithful christian's onward steps, 
And yet we let each foot-ste|) slip;' 

Why is it so? 



1 


50 


POEMS. 




A Lady In Hell. 




Think, oh! think, ye timid mortals, 
Of that dark and doleful cell 
Of the damned — oh, how important 
For you to escape that awful Hell. 




IIo.w you hate the low, degraded, 
Scorn to mingle with th3 vile — 
Oft with contempt you have discarded, 
Disdained, one hour with them to while. 




Yet you'll go — your course is downward, 
Laughing lightly, day by day; 
Dangers near, yet you'll press onward, 
In the broad, frequented way. 


1 


Here you are — a trusting being. 
Looking to father, brother, sister, friend ; 
On your husband's arm you're leaning ; 
Well thou knowest they will defend. 




But who'll guard you in that prison — 
Prison of God's holy wrath ; 
There alone, with terror riven. 
Down, down you'll go that trackless path. 




There the fiends loiid howling meet you ; 
Drag you down to black des])air. 
There no friendly voice to greet you — 
Feeling you're an intruder there. 




There they fiercely, madly grasp you, . 
Yelling loud, "Oh, canst "thou flee?" 
No — no loving arms release you ; 
Doomed — doomed to all eternity. 




There the vile of every nation — 
Low, degraded, drunken throng ; 
Liars, lowest of (irod's creation. 
With fiendish joy still shouts you on. 




Hear them crying, see th^un writhing 
In the flames of black despair. 
Still the gathering flames are rising. 
Hound thy helpless spirit there. 




Darkening, thickening, deepening, widening. 

Roaring thunderings still increase, 

And no Saviour's voice inviting ; 

You're doomed — this horror ne'er shall erase. 



POEMS. 51 

Aiigt'ls stand with breathless silercc, 
See thee sinkmjj, sinking low ; 
While ail Jiell re-echoes vilest, 
Crying, '"Tis not half thy woe !" 

TKere wnth pain your spirit's frantic ; 
Fi'antic — knowing 'twill still increase, 
Fiends so ghastly, scorched, gigantic, 
Triumphant cry, "'Twill never cease!" 

Then, oh! timid females shun it! 
Shun the cries, the flames, the frown ! 
Strive for heaven— you can win it ! 
Strive* for victory, harps and crowns. 

Prompted by hearing a discourse delivered Ijy Rev, G. K. 
QuiUan, August loth, 18S4. 

A Sad Parting. 

IIow oft ril think of the pa.iting hour 
As wilts the grass and fades the flover; 
So ere twelve" months hath half been told, 
My form, or thi\ie inay one be cohl, 

And we so far apart. 

It seems to me when 1 shall say, 
Farewell to thee, that sad, sad day, 
That when you turn your fnce from me. 
Thy form r>o more on earth I'll see. 

But part to all eternity. 

Then all tliy smiles so pleasing now, 
Will make me sad and cloud my brow; 
Will cause me oft to shed a tear, 
W^hen thou no longer can be near. 

To soothe and comfort me 

When I can no more hear thy voice. 
Which now so oft makes me rejoice, 
Which makes my heart feel light and free. 
When thou dost whisper, I love thee, 

When there's no ear to hear. 

When last you clasp ray hand m thme, 
And press thy cheek so close to mine. 
To think e'er you return to me; 
My heart all cold in death may be, 

Oh! can it, can it be. 

But then one favor I v.-ould ask, 
Be mine the sweet, tlte pleasing task, 





52 POEMS. 


A guardian angel then to be, 


That I nijolit linger close by thee, 


Through lifeVcold rugged path. 


And when thy task on earth is done, 


Tliy l)eart by grace all sweetly won, 


May y<iu then wnig your npw rd Hig'ht; 
To realms of joy, and peace, and light, 

Where I will meet thee then. 


TO My Mother- 


Mother my heart is often sad, 


; The hours are lone and drear. 


No other smile can make me g'lad. 


; No other's face so dear. 


Kind friends in vaia do strive, to make 


My lonely pathway smoothe, 
But all their efferts, only make 


Me crave a mother's love. 


At si^lent eve, when I rentire 


Within my lonely room. 


Oh then it is my hearts desire. 


To meet with thee at home. 


All other hearts seem light and free. 


All other faces smile, 


But Oh al is ! no joy for rae. 


So lonely is thy child. 


But mother, I cannot expect 


To be, aught else but lone, 


i While I must ever recollect. 


I cannot wander home. 


But mother I will try to be 


Content a little while, 


For God is always kind, and He 


Ene long will take thy child. 


Forbid that I should selfish be. 


But mother oft I crave, , 


That near my death bed tbou mayest be, 


Ami mark my my lonely graive. 





POICMS. 5g 

A Departed Friend, 



She IS gone,— her happy spirit gone, 
Her troubled soul's at at rest; 
Before lier father's glittering throne 
With the redeemed she's blest. 

Her sorrows, sufferings, are ail o'er^ 
To pain no more allied, 
irpon that sweet, that peaceful shore, 
From sin her spirit hides. 

Airunperceived by those aroKnd, 
Death entered the sad room, 
Herjiappy spirit heard the sound: 
Haste sufferer to thy home. 

With angel bands au-aiting round, 
To soothe her dying bed, ,,[; 
She heard the angeljvoices sound, 
And quickly with them fledl 

And there upon the yonder shore. 
She saw a smiling face. 
With joy she never felt before — 
Her saviour she embraced. 

Oh haste ! Oh hasten on she cried. 
Unto my mansion fair. 
Thou hast prepared;—- Oh Crneified I 
For all the ransomed there. 

And now me think's I see her riser 
Her Saviour hy her side, 
Unto her mansion in the skies, 
Witlv all the s-anctihed 



What I Love, 



I love to sec the falling snow, 
I love to hear the winds so low, 
But far above all thi.» I prise 
The gentle light in the Poet's eyes", 

I love to see the blooming flowers, 
Which show departed wintry hours, 
But far more lasting charms' 'twould be- 
The Poet's face once more to see. 



54 POEMS. 



I love to hear the riphng brook, 

I love upon its charms to look; 

But there's a voice that is gentler still, 

The Poet's voice out charms the rill. 

T love to view from mountain's hight, 
The scenes that there doth charm the sight, 
But loftier scenes hath met mine eye, 
The Poet's thought in days gone by. 

I love to see the dew drops bright, 
That dance and sparkle with delight; 
But 'twould be more lasting charms to me, 
A smile on the Poet's tace to see. 

I love to hear the birds that sing 
With soft sweet note, and glossey wing. 
But to while my lonely hours away, 
I'd take the Poet's song to- day. 



WE MUST Forgive. 



'Tis eve, — the sky is very bright, 
The sun's last gliraps is gone. 
The day is darkning into nighl; 
And mourns the setting gloom. 

And now while memory is so fresh, 
And tlioughts of other days. 
Rush back; with some distress. 
My heart still seems to s:y. 

Forgive — although tis hard to say: 
Yet I must be forgiven. 

I oft recall those words to day, 
Still to forgive I've striven. 

And now, when I behold the one 
That caused me thus to speak, 
I cannot, cannot do the wrong 

To spurn them when they're meek. 

Oh no ! let mercy ever more. 
Take justice' flaming sword; 

I'll hide upon her glittering shore. 
That iiarsh, that bitter word. 

A harsh word never changes wrong, 
But strengthens evil power. 

Then let a sweet, a gentle word 
Express my thoughts each hour. 



POEMS. 55 



Oh may I never speak unkind ! 
But let my words be sure; 

I think I surely then will find, 
A fountain sweet and pure. 



Change. 



The flowers may bloom, all bright and free, 
The little warblers sing with glee, 
The ivy creeps with silent tred, 
The violet rise within that bed 

With modest grace. 

The forest wave with graceful ease, 
The stately foliage kiss the breeze, 
The wild flowers'strew the forest o'er, 
Where naught lut wild beast doth explore, 
With savage rush. 

The sun may rise, and shine with power. 
And slyly creep within each bower; 
The dew-drops dance to see him smile, 
The timid rose may blush the while, 
To own his power. 

Yet when the Spring is past and gone, 
Unwearied time will still roll on, 
And bring relentless in his train. 
The winter months which now must reign 
With furious blast. 

And where the woodland waved in green, 
All clothed in ice they now are seen, 
The snow a carpet now doth spread. 
Where flowers sweet, once raised their head 
With graceful ease. 

Where little warblers sang with glee. 
There's not a bird upon the tree. 
No they have flown to other climes. 
Mid other bowers now they chime, 
With joyous song. 

This shows us now, how plain to view, 
That whatso'er we may pursue, 
That there is nothing here remains, 
But what time writes unceasing change. 
In every hour. 



66 POEMS 

A SMILE. 

Rich robes, and gold may deek the form, 
And ribons silk, and lace adorn, 
Fine jewels clasp the ravjn hair. 
But if no smile of love is there, 

There is no beauty still. 

The figure may be perfect too. 
The cheek may wear a I'osy hue, 
The forehead white as drifted snow, 
But there's no beauty yet we know, 

Without a smile of love. 



THE DEATH ANGEL'S VISIT. 



Henry Pilgrim has gone his spirit has fled, 

His body consigned to its cold narrow bed; 

With sad hearts we turned from his last resting place 

As mother earth clasped him — a long cold embrace. 

How sad to behold a youth in his prime. 
Cut down by a monster, so bold, and so grim. 
Not the prayers of a mother in anguish so deep, 
Could touch his steel heart, though she fell at his feet. 

But unmoved by the cries, the prayers and the tears. 
Death crept in so silent — none of them hears; 
And quick as a thought, his young heart he chills. 
Death is rentlentless, — his victim he kills. 

Oh death ! why didst thou mark out beauty for thine? 
Why didst thou not go to the hovel of crime? 
Where victims of slaughter lay close to thy call; 
And take out the lowest the vilest of all. 

Say — didst thou not shrink, when you saw the young face 
All glowing with beauty, — the form full of grace. 
The eyes sparkling bright, in manhoods young prime? 
Say — why didst thou mark one so noble for ihine? 

Oh ! I stop not for beauty, — I sound the alarm, 

In city, in villiage, in hovel, on farm. 

The noble, ignoble, alike I will greet, 

The rich like the poor fall down at my feet. 

Dear brother remember, and prepare for that day. 
For the monster may come at midnight, and say: 
Thy face is now ended, — now come when I call. 
For all must obey me, the great and the small. 



POEMS. 57 

Romcmher the clasp of the pale dyiiiQ- hand 
And with the other uplifted to Cnnamrs fair land 
Imploring by look, for his speech was denied 
He pointed to Heaven, to the blest Crucified' 

Now sisters, and brothers, with hearts kind and true 
Prepare to meet Henry, for he's ^^•aitincr for you ' 
Uh may you all meot with your parents above 
And shout hallujah's in mansions of love. 

— " ■- - »■• ■ 

AN ACROSTIC-J- D- JARRARD- 

Jesus calls to mortal man, 
Asks the work of his own hand ; 
Come to me, be saved by grace,' 
Shows His hands, His feet. His' face. 

Dearest face, wdth sorrow riven ; 
P>ut that face smiles now in heaven • 
Those hands were nailed on Calvary's tree 
-but now iJe holds them out to thee. 

'Must receive my love," He cries. 
See the Lord of glorv dies. 
"J>ow before my'feet to day, 
I will wash thy guilt away. 

And will make thy garments svhite ; 
Will let thee walk with nie in li<yht'- 
Will cause thy faith with love to shine • 
Will give thee peace and love divine." ' 

Retrace thy steps, (), mortal man ! 
Fall in with sweet salvation's j.laM ; 
The gates of sin trudge on no more, 
JJut lauuch your bark 'for Canaan's shore. 

liepent! Kepent! 'Tis not too late ! 
Oh ! sinners, see thy fallen state ; 
The ]>ierced hands,* the gushing side, 
Plung in ! J'Inng in the crimson ti<k.. 

And must he cry and call in vain y 
Wilt thou not hear, who caused His i,aiii "^ 
Wilt thou not cry : "I'm lost ! I'rrt iost ! 
Oh save me ! Jesus, at Thy Cross :•"' 

liepent, (), Jesus; yes, I will ; 
I know^ thou'It love" the sinner still, 
Will give the weary wanderer re>t. 
Will lean my head on that dear breast. 



68 POEMS. 

Dearest Saviour, now to-day, 
Wa^li my every sin away. 
Lo, at Thy hand I take the cup, 
Jesus Ji^'ts tlic burden u]). 



RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED; TO A 
YOUNG MINISTER. 

It is thy Idt to leave tiiy home 
Mid Raijuns ruij:ged liills to roam, 
But then rie!i blessings thou'lt receive, 
In bringing forth thy golden sheaves; 

To thy kind Father's breast. 

Cold winters blasts how fierce they be, 
And every comfort .-eeips to Hec; 
Yet still with strangers thou- must roam; 
When sweet v/ould be the chai'ms of home, 
Where tliou couldst rest. 

Aui] when thy head is racked with pain, . 
And fevers high, confuse thy brain, 
And anxious friends are standing nigh, 
And pray and tor their pastor sigh. 

Still thou'lt lie Vilest. 

.Although your \'oyage may rugged l)e,. 
In crossing lifes tempesteous sea; 
:N[ay thy small bark by Angel bands, 
J>e anchored safe in Canaans land, 

Where thou shall rest. 

For winter's blast will soon be o'er, 
And pain, and suffering l)e no more, 
And then thy voice so soft shall be, 
Mid Angel harps the sweetest key; 

To sing GodV; pnuse. 



HOW SWEET WILL BE THE RE- 
LEASE. 



ilow sweet will be the release, 
From this bur.len of sin and of care, 
When the Angel of mercy, and peace 
Shall call me to mansions more fair. 

How sweet will be tlie release, 

How I long for the hour to come, 

When I hear the sweet whisper: make haste; 

Which will call the sad wanderer home. 



POKMS. 59I 



How 8weet will be the release, 
\\ hen the last cord is broken an<l free, 
^^ hen the heart throes forever .shall opas.?, 
1 ulsation no more now shal! be. 

How sweet will l>e tlie release. 
From suffering, temptations, am] tears, 
W hen Jesus hath save<l me i)y "-race, 
And gently relieves all my fears. 

ilow sweet will be the release, 
From this poor ten^ement of elay; 
Oh then ! ri{ shoiit victorv ])eace 
As I enter the i>ovla.h of day. 

THERh/s ONE More soul 
In Glory^ 

I iiere's oi',e more sonl in glory— 
iTi^sJied, one njoi-e heaving breast; 
There's one nvire shouts, Oh glorv ! 
And leans, on Jesus breast. 

lher(^\s one miu'c snul in gloi-r; 
And hope for btiss is given. 
And with the martyrs glorv, 
He shouts, thei-e's rest m lieaven. 
Tlierc's oiu; m.oresonl in g'ort: 
'Z"he armor's Laid aside, 
Aiid paJms of victory's given: 
Beyond the swelling'tide. 

'there's one nuM-<s sonl i>5 Heaven", 
Tiie battle's foiiight and woi's, 
The sword for palms are givei'. 
And for a fadeless crowrK 

Tkcre'v: oiu' CAore soul in glory. 
A watehmar^'s oiTthc v/alT, 
He now shouts glory, gloi-y, 
Oh: "iTowii hin^Lord of all." 

Thei-e's one mon^ st)ui in ireaven. 
Athenians ^'dio can teliV 
IIovv^ )'Our sad keaMs were riven, 
\\''he« your gallant leader fell. 

There's one more soul in ijlory; 
Although j'^our rj umber's less," 
The clmrel-. Idgh up in gh>rv; 
<;ivcs thy beb-rved rest. ' 



GO POEMS. 

There's one more soul in glory, 
The number now he swells 
Who chniit and Rin<i: t;he story, 
God doeth all things well. 

There's one more soul in ircavei?, 
He now is free from sin, 
With Pierce and sainted Marvin, 
To rest he's entered in. 

There's one more soul in Heaven, 
Oh mother I shout for joy, 
To Jesus all the praise be given; 
For he hath called thy boy. 

There's one more sonl in glory: 
He was too pure to stay— 
Ood called him up to glory, 
And led the shining way. 

fn memory of Rev. John Quillian of the Ga., Conferefif.'e. 

My MothePx's Grave. A. 

A TREASURE. 



f have an earthly treasure. 

Far back in the mist of years, 

That gives joy, and jieace, and pleastire; 

Though oft rises unbidden teai-s. 

T Avas but small when thcfy laiid her 
Deej* down from mortal sight, 
Tint Oh f how well I remeinlier 
J\(ny I miss<'fl my n»oth{?r that nij^ht. 

Yet it is an earthly treat^itre 
I'll at grave of long ago, 
Where soft the zeph^yrs quiver. 
Or falls the ditfting snow.. 

Tlie birds at close of even, 
Doth warble forth their lays, 
Which calls our thougbts to Hearenv 
Where mother sings Goers' praise. 

Anil I know that sbe is sweetest. 
Of all that ransomed throng; 
And I know she'll seem the meekesty 
When she whispers: come along. 



POEMS, 61 

Oh, can it be I am dreaming-, 
Or h it her voice I hear? 
The tears of joy are strenimins:- 
i^'or I feel that modier '\» near, 

.T)ear mother I krjovr thoit art waitiirg' 
For some one to cross the cold flood, 
Who who will be first at the o^reeting;" 
And hear yon shontf glory to GocL 

Your children are afi nmv iu wauirit;'' 
To meet tliee on Canaan's bright shore; 
And I frctsl there^l be none of thern wantin<^ 
When yoix gather, wliefc jjarfiuf^s are? o'er. 

And Father, is near fo tire ri\er; 
The cold spray fa neafing Iris feet; 
He oft shotfts: Oh -glory for evei'^ 
We'll soon 5neet at Jesns' feet. 

By request of Mrs. Tverry for her' long; lost Mofhfrr-' M?sv 
Kusftn Brt)W.nfo«'. 



The dying son. 



Now, Mother xvns joyfnlfy waiting 
For some ope to coti>c the^e from hom'e-y 
Her s'omg she sweetly was chantiiTg 
When death had the scrmmons to come. 

Iter face Wis- all glowing' with raptwre^ 
Iler spirit unbounded and free, 
iler robes far out shone tlie bright Yesper ? 
As »he srionted: I'm coming foir thee. 

And swift ns a thought she was flittm'g' 
Tier pinions sped quick to Iris room'; 
She Jieard him low murmur, I'm fainting ! 
And she whispered so- quick;' mother^'s come. 

Oh here ! is" the raiisoiiyed blest Jesu*, 
Here, here is the dearest of all, 
When I left, to me it was grievous, 
i>iit my\V he comes' first at tby calL 

Loud, I'oitd were tbe anthems' of praises./ 
And loog, was the motber's- embrace, 
Her harp strings the highest notes raises- 
When slic seeti his lovini! s-weet face^ 



62 POEMS. 

lie's the first one to cross the cnM river, 
He's the firft one to see mother's face, 
He's the first one that's safe, safe forever, 
The first one to shout: saved by grace! 

The Saviour witli rapture beholding. 
He receives from His hand the bright crown; 
While the mvsteries of Heaven's unfoldiiig 
And gloi-y is spreading around. 

Yes praise him, Oli jiraise liim! with s'lout :i n 1 will) lyre, 
And peons from all ransomed tongues, 
Praise Him now; key your notes higher, 
Sing louder ye v..st mighty throng. 

Now Husband, and Father is coming, 
He ever is ready to go, 
His race here he swiftly is running. 
He'll soon be done toiling below. 

Who, who will be next at the greeting? 
W^ho'U meet next in Cana.-in's fair land, 
Where glories inelfable's waiting 
To crown yon, a faa.ily band. 

Insci'il)ed to the memory of Mr. Sumpter lirowMilow who was an infant when 
his mother Mrs. Susan tirownlow died and was the first to die,.-^tl)o\iL^h a grown 
married man when he died. 

THE Early dead- 

She is gone. She is gone from this w(u-ld of strife; 
She is gone to that land of eternal life. ^ 

Her park is now landed on Canaan's bright shore, 
Where sin and temptation, and sorrow's no more. 

Her bark had been tossing, the billows were high. 
And sometimes she feared that shipwreck was nigh, 
But trusting in One who once calmed the sea, 
She cried out in faith: Oh Father ! save me. 

Then holding His hand, as to Peter of old. 

He said : I am here, — take courage, be bold; 

Thy Fathei- will shield thee, froih cloud, and from storm; 

Come, come now and shelter, thy young, timid form. 

She prayed then in faith believing 'twas done, 
The clouds were all passed, and bright shone the sun. 
The tempest had ceised, and a calm now should be 
As sweet and as lasting as o'er deep Gallilee. 

Her afHictions, thougli many, by her was untold. 

In the crucible, though she came out like gold 

All purified, white and spotless she came 

Shouting victory, victory through the blood of the Lamb. 



POEMS. 63 

Deatli came unex])ect(.'fl, but ne'er fouiKl her asleep, 
Tliere was oil in her lump, when she fell at his feet, 
All burning;, and bright, when the monster fame in, 
And the vessel all ready, filled up to the brim'. 

Now the battle is over, and the victor^^ won, 
Her joys are eternal, and bright is her crown; 
To her mansion of light, she has now entered in; 
She is free from temptation, from sorrow and sin. 

We miss thee denr Sallie, but our loss is thy gain, 
And (tocI being our helj^er, we'll meet the again 
AVith nil the dear love<l ones who'r gone on before. 
And shout hallujah's on Canaan's bright shore. 

Mrs. Sallie l«arry was a sister of Mr. Sumpter Brownlo v and only lived a few 
short months till she went to join him and her mother Who had preceded her to 
C'dory, died very suddenly, and unexpectedly. 



The Suicide. 



The day was calm and cheery, 
The sun Avas shining bright ; 
Yet to his heart 'twas dreary — 
All hope had sunk in night. 

lie sought t?!e lonely shadow. 
Far, far from home and child, 
Which overlooked the meadow— 
Ills bram was frantic, wild. 

lie sat hmi down so lonely, 

A perfect maniac there ; 

His thoughts were sad and gloomy, 

All wrapt m wild despair. 

lie shot — his brains were scattered, 
And blood all on the ground ; 
His hair with brains were matted. 
And thus his coi-ps aviis found. 

There Avas no one there to witness 
The last deep, dying groan ; 
Xo hand to soothe in meekness, 
For he was all alone. 

God only knows the struggle ; 
God ojily knows the pain ; 
God only knew the trouble 
That racked the heart, the brain. 

Great God, is he in heaven ? 
Is his weary soul at rest ? 



— 



64 POEMS. 



Didst Thou sweell)'- say, "Forgivfcii '?" 
Doth he le:iu on that dear breast V 

Say, is there rest forevei" 
For tha.t troubled, aching- head ? 
Yl-^f he rest beyond the river, 
Where his happy si)irit 's iled ? 

Yes — we trust thy tnniV^le's ended, 
In cHmes of endh-'ss day ; 
Where love and joy are blended, 
And //lou canst rest for aye. 



I LONG To MEET THEM. 



Som?timcs tny body's weary, 
All burthened here with pain ; 
The days seem long and dreary, 
Yet I will not complain. 

For H(^ who once <lid suffer, 
Knows what is ever best ; 
And though my path seems rouj4hei', 
lie sweetly gives mo rest. 

xA.nd lie who's ever faithful 
To save, who trust in Him, 
Whose eyes are ever wakeful, 
Will save my soul from sin. 

I want to I'each that heaven 
01 everlasting rest ; 
Where no sad hearts are riven. 
But all in Jesus blest. 

For I have got three children 
That's robed in white, they sa}^, 
And oh ! the mighty millions 
That's there with tliem to-day. 

And how I long to join them, 
And hear the harps they play ; 
And join that sweet, sweet anthem, 
In realms of endless day. 

Where sin, and pain, and sorrow, * 
Can no more heave my breast ; 
No sighing for the morrow, 
For I shall sweetly I'est. 



POEMS 65 



And when 'at last I'm dying, 
Oh, send my cherubs down!^ 
\Vliile loved ones here are crying, 
Their light will shine around. 

And then, with shining pinions, 
They'll safe conduct me home ; 
And there, with happy millions, 
They'll shout, "My mother 's come !" 

Ifow great, how great the glory 1 — 
I'll fold them to my heart ;^ 
Then I will shout the story— 
In heaven we'Ll never part. 

And those we've left behind us, 
In waiting now will stand ; 
So anxious now to join us. 
And form a family "band. 



What Whisky Done 

For ]Mr. Eugenk Bkck,— Rabon's Wealthiest 

AxD Handsomest, 



Oh ] why all this anguish'? 
Oh what is the cause? 
'Twould bcggnr nil laniiuagc — 
Oh stop ! thij?k and pause. 

A whiskey crazed husband; 
Stop, stop can we say ! 
It was done up in rabun; 
Our heart* chiJl to-day. 

All alone, it wns night fall, 
He entered the room; 
His spirit was w..keful 
With sins deepest gioomj 

He paused to consider, 
But delirious with rum, 
He decided to murder. 
To darken hit gloom. 

Then he sJiot bex~ — Oh hmrorl 
He mangled her head 

]y"o grief on the morrow, 
For Ella M'as dead. 



66 POEMS. 

Then turning to sister. 
With murder intent; 
g, The silent death missile, 
To Addie he sent. 

Two sisters lay dying. 
Their life blood was spilt; 
Now one had ceased sighing, 
Oh ! Husband what guilt. 

What caused all this sorrow 
Now? was it Eugene? 
Did he wake on the morrow 
To behold the sad scene? 

Did he go on the morrow 
^^' To see his wife's face 

All mangled? — Oh horror 1 
He shunned the sad place. 

His conscience was busy, 
What a w\ar raged within; 
His brain was all dizzie 
With guilt — what a sin, 

Alas? 'twas the wine-cup 
That caused all this woe; — 
He counted the cost up, 
Could he all this forego? 

He now saw the adder 
That was lurking within, 
He beheld with a shudder, 
The fell monster so grim- 
He cries out all frenzied, 
My sin I deplore, 
Oh God ! save my hands 
From this innocent gore. 

He will blot out tliy gwilt; 
He will save thee from hell. 
Now pray if thou wilt 
In thy low darkened cell. 

Repent and He'll mire you 
With your wife up above, 
Where they'll sweetly forgive 
lu mansions of love, 

^ My Husband is gone> 



Oh dear one thou art gone to rest ! 
From care and suffering free, 



^^~.f^,:f,^ir,rr^^^^..^.M^^,^.^^^.-^,^.^-,-..^,.,^^.,!,^.^^.^ 



POEMS. 67 

Where in that mansion thou art blest; 
Do turn and think of me. 

How sad, and dull and bleak this earth 
Since thou hast ceased to live; 
No voic« can cheer, no words cause mirth, 
2^0 heart can solace give. 

I watched so closely by thy side 
And prayed that you might live; 
Thou vvert so true to love allied; 
No love^such comfort gives. 

JJut death had aimod his dart at thee 
And while I lingered by 
He set thy hai)py spirit free 
Without a moan or sigh. 

I watched thy last, last parting bi-eath, ' 
And watched thy spirit rise, 
Clasping the antidote of death 
And soar above ihe skies. 

And there dear Hasban.l we will meet 
Where partings are all o'er; 
We'll meet at our dear Jesus feet 
And meet to part no more. 

With'inward joy I anticipate, 
lieunion in the skies; 
And now that bliss I antedate, 
With thee in Paradbcv 

And there my mansion's fitluig up 
CJose by thy loving side, 
There joy will fill my brimming cup 
And thou willt claim thy bride. 

Farewell dear love, we'll meet no more 
On this terrestrial ball. 
But gladly clasp our hands once more; 
Ciying: ''Ci-i^wTi Hira Lord of all." 

'Composed for a friend, for her husband — early dead. 



IN MEMORY OF MRS. LOU KlM- 
SEY- 



Oh weep not, oh weep not, that the spirit is fled, 
That the body is consigned to its cold narrow bed, 
That the face once so lovely is forever concealed, 
That the heart once so true, is, forever congealed. 



08 POEMS. 

'Twas sad, indeed sad, the home once so bright. 
Should have ever been clouded, with tears or with 

bbght, 
But death spread© her wings over cottage and ball. 
And brings anguish, and tears, and sorrow to all. 

Yet b<;hind the dark cloud the &un still shines bright. 
And morn, will disperse the dark shades of the nighty 
And God will then wipe all tears^ IVonrs thine eyes,, 
When you meet in the fields of sweet paradise. 

Her life was so pure — ^her nature was love; 
She has gone to home^ to her father above, 
AVhere she sweetly awaits thee, in mansions of bliss. 
Oh is not that home, far better than this? 

Three young timid forms, she has left to thy care. 
Oh point them to Jesus, to their mother up there, 
Where, if faithful you all, with her will soon meet. 
And shout hallelujah's, at Jesus' feet. 

Like a bird from its cage, she has fluttered away. 
She has left thee in gloom, and sadness to day, 
But the gate at the portal, i& now standing ajar, 
And thy wife, will be first to welcome thee there. 

Her bouse swept, and garnished — her robes were 

all white, 
She was ready and waiting — her armor was bright, 
"Angelic Chuiristers sings as she comes," 
Welcome, oh welcome, oh welcome thee home. 

Her spirit too pure, for thi»dull nwrtal strife, 
Has flown to its Father, the giver of life. 
Yet weep not, as those who must sorrow in vain, 
For in mansions of bliss, you diall meet her again. 



I Want To seeMother- 



^Oh I long to lie dear mother. 
With my head upon thy breast. 
There's- not on earth — no sister brother. 
That can. soothe my soul's unrest. 

But li I were just in heaven, 
In that place of peace, and love, 
Where bright crowns of gold are given, 
What a blessed world above. 

And' I know you'll gladly sreet me, 
When I cross the swelling tide, 



POEMS, H9^ 

Then bow gladly Td embrace tbee, 
Kestling closelj to thy side. 

Last to know I'm »afe forever,- 
Free from sorrow, sin and pain, 
Know otir hearts will no more sever, 
We shall never part again. 

There I shall tee my glmions mansion, 
Flowers unfading, streets of gold, 
This His promised all the ransomed. 
This the prophets has foretold. 

There we^I met, and see each other. 
And our sorrows there relate. 
None that's there— so sweet as raother. 
In that glorious blest estate. 

And to see and know my Saviour, 
Bowing lowly, at his feet, 
There to sing bis praise forever. 
Haste— oh time, and let us meet. 

His Love can Ne'er Be Told. 

The little birds from leafy bowefs. 
Pours forth in accents bold ; 
Praisfe him, ob, man!— lalfill thy vows ; 
His love can ne'er be told. 

Praise bim, ob, monarcli en thy throve I 

Although thy sceptre 's gold. 
Lay down tby costly robes, and own. 
His iove can ne'er be told. 

Go, faithful servant of the Lord, 
Who works for Thee — jiot gold ; 
Go preach his love, GocFs Holy Word, 
His love cannot be told. 

The rich and poor of every age, 
Has owned His lore's control. 
Has shonted loud — the peasant, sage. 
His love can ne'er be told. 

Myriads of angels on the wing. 
May tune their harjjs of gold. 
Archangels join the choir and singv 
His love's not half been told. 

Let earth and heaven catch up the sound. 
That siircads from pole to pole ; 



70 POEMS. 

From land, to land, let echoes, 
His love cannot be told. 



MY OWN TWO BOYb' 



There are two precious darlings, 
That twineth 'round my heart ; 
That from morning's early dawning, 
Ne'er from my^side depart. 

They are so kind and loving. 
Obedient, pure, and true. 
When round my knees they're hovering, 
I think their faults are few. 

Soon as their tongue could lis]) it, 
I learned them Jesus' name ; 
I told them all about it — 
How Christ, the Lamb, was slain. 

I read to them the Bible, 
And taught them both to pray ; 
And now they are not idle — 
They read Thy Word each day. 

How I watch their every footstep, 
And pray they may not slip ; 
Oh I save them from that shipwreck 
Of soul, that sinners sip. 

And when from me they wander, 
Far into this world of woe. 
May thy loving hands be under 
Each foatstep as they go. 

And guide, and guard, and shelter, 
Their sweet, young, timid forms ; 
]je Thou their constant helper. 
And calm life's raging storm. 

And wheu I'm called to leave them, 
On life's tempestuous sea. 
Wilt Thou be ever with them, 
And keep them close to Thee ? 

May they ne'er forget their mother 
That taught them first to pray ; 
May they listen to no other, 
That would teach their hearts to Htray. 

But fix their eyes on heaven, 
Where mother calmly waits, 



POEMS. 71 



"With the bloodwashed and forgiven, 
To ope the pearly gates. 

Oh ! how great will be the glory, 
To know they're safe for aye, 
And to shont the "Pleasing story," 
Through an endless day. 

Blow, Gabriel— blow the trumpet ; 
Fly swift, ye wheels of Time ; 
We'll swell the shout triumphant — 
The glorv shall be Thine. 



An Acrostic-c. v. Weathers. 

Counting all but dross, 

Lord, I meekly take Thy Cross ; 
Hold it up to fallen man, 
Showing them salvation's plan, 

Crying, "Behold the Lamb!" 

Verify l^hy promise, Lord, 

As to the ancients in Thy Word ; 
In six troubles I will be — 
Shielfl and buckler unto Thee, 

And the seventh a shelter be. 

With this promise I can go, 

O'er mountains high, through falling snow ; 
Through the vallies, on the plain. 
Through the rich man's wide domain, 
Seeking the cot again. 

Ever be with me, oh God ! 

Give me light on Thy blest Word ; 
Let me still untiring be. 
Pointing sinners unto Thee, 

The Lamb of Calvary. 

And may it be my life's great aim, 
To glorify my Saviour's name ; 
To call lost sinners, rich and poor, 
To enter in at mercy's door. 

Thy dying love to implore. 

*rurn, oh, sinners ! turn and live ; 
Jesus once his life did give — 
Freely died to show us^God— 
Can you trample on his blood, 

And trample on his grace ? 





72 POEMS. 


How can you refuse kis grace ? 
He shows to you his sniiling face ; 
Lo! he shows his hands, his side! 
Lo, for you was ci-ucified ! 

Behold the crimson tide ! 


Every one that seeks shall find ; 
Find a gracious God and l^ind ; 
Kind to save from every ill ; 
Kind to destroy the carnal will, 

And save thy soul from hell. 


Rejoice, oh, ransomed ones, and sing, 
Rejoice, and praise thy God and King; 
Shout loudly now, for thou canst tell, 
That Jesus doeth all things well ; 
Shout, praise Immanuel. 


Soon will my tongue catch up the song ; 
Soon will I join the bloodwashed throng ; 
Yes, soon the pearly gates I'll pass ; 
Soon, soon the loved ones hancls I'll clasp, 
And shout, "I'm home at last !" 


• • • 

^'Behold, there went out a 


SOWER to sow; -Mark 4:3. 


Cikting forth to scatter seed, 
O'er wayside rough, and pleasant mead, 
In the morning's early dew ; 
Scatter, scatter not a few. 


Some will fall among the thorns, 
Be not discouraged, scatter on ; 
Some be choked and pine away, 
Sow on, though rocks be on the way. 


Scatter far and scatter wide ; 
By the rich man's hall of pride ; 
By the brook and through the glens; 
By the haunts of humble men. 


On the highway let them fall, 
Let the earth receive them all; 
Let .them germinace and grow — 
God will water all, you know. 


On the mountains rough and high, 
"Where the wakeful fire-fly, 





Lights their liui? ti :';3. in<>- i 
Scatter 'round the K>wly camp. 

Sow uj>on the mighty plain ; 
Now along the gorge again, 
Sowing on with weary feet, 
Knowing rest will be so sweet. 

Sow with smiles, and sow in tears, 
Through "the long, long, weary years ; 
Sowjn faith and sow in prayer, 
Sow and scatter everywhere. 

Soon the sowing will be o'er, 
Soon- sad tears will How no more ; 
Soon the weary feet will rest ; 
Then your sowing will be blest. 

Heavenly reapers, come along, 
Corae with scythe, an<l happy song ; 
Come and glean tlie harvest wide. 
By the river's sullen tide. 

Come and reap the golden grain, 
It was sown in tears and pain, 
But the harvest's truly great — 
Acres broad doth thee await. 

Heavenly reapers, haste and sec, 
What beyond awaiteth thee; 
Harvests richer than before, 
Stretches out from every dOor. 

Count, oh coent the golden sheaves, 
Count quickly, for it uow is eve ; 
Lord of the harvest now ajvaits — 
Open wide the pearly gates. 

T'HL CRUCIFIXION- 



Couit! there be a sweeter name, 
Than the Lmuio on Calvary slain; 
CouM tlieix' 1)0 a sweeler song, 
From angel harp or mortal tongue ? 

Vast as eternity — Thy love, 

Which angels chant on harj.s iibovc ; 

And mortal tongues c:Uch up the sound, 

'^IMiroiigh heaven am,! earth the echoes bouibl. 

Welterhig tliere in sweat and blood, 
Yery man, aiid very God, 



74 POEMS. 

Where no mortal eye could see, 
In the garden of Gothsemane, 

Earth hath never seen such woe, 
Why did lie all this grief forego ; 
Crying, -'Faiher, let it pass, 
This cup so bitter, hear Hiui gasp !" 

And 'twas thus his prayer begun, 
Not my will but thine be done, 
I will die if 'tis thy will 
I will all the law fulfill. 

Thus the man of sorrow dies, 

In such dreadful agonies; 

The suu was darkened then at noon. 

The moon withdrew her face in gloom 

Hanging there upon the tree, 
I-Ie shed his blood for you and for ir.e, 
Behold his loving hands and fe(=t; 
This was our Saviour lowly, meek. 

Earth and Heaven, in wonder stood, 
See him dying, Mighty God, 
The temples veil is rent in twain, ^ 
The solid j-ocks asunder came. 

Redeemed, redeeme<l, behold he cries, 
It is the King of glory dies; _ 
'Tis finished, now on ealveries tree, 
The attonemeut now is full and free. 

Shout, clasp your wings ye angels bright, 
Shout ye redeemed, shout with delight; 
ISTow le\ all Henven with echoes bound 
In Christ is full salvation found. 



SABBATH School ADDRESb 

For My Little Baby boy- 



I will addrc'^s you tliough I'm small. 
For now I want to tell you all 
How well I love dear Jesus now, 
While morning dew is on my bi-ow, 

I dearly love each Sabbath day, 
To hear them sing, and hear them pray 
At Sabbath School ; Oh happy place. 
Where children meet with smilino; face. 



POEMS. 

And Jesus said, Oh suff«r them ! ^ 
To come to me, Fll love them then, 
I'll gather them close in my arms 
AVh^re no rade foe shall er're alarm. 

I'll take the children to my breast. 
And calm their fears and give tliem rest, 
I'll take them to my fold this hour 
And guard tliem with my mighty power 

Oh parents! bring your children on 
And come with shout, and come with son 
Come, come and Join our little band. 
For we're all bound for Canaan's land. 



A CONSEALED TREASURE- 



O 5 



My heart is*surely all for thee, 
Oan'st thou, with coldness turn, 
And feel no warmth of heart for me? 
Oh can'st thou idly spurn? 

I've loved the long, but still consealed 
Down deep within my heart, 
And feared some glance, perchance revealed. 
The emotion of my heait. 

I am afraid when all alone. 

To own to my own heart. 

The love, that there so long hath burned, 

And never will depart. 

Not even to the dearest friend, 
riiat now I have on earth, 
A thought of thee, I dare to sjx'nd, 
Not even of thy worth. 

Love will say unfold thy heart, 
Prudence will answer no; 
Love would say, 'twill win his heart; 
Prudence, it ne'er is so. 

In lonely hours of the night, 
I often meet with thee; 
Then 'tis a feast unto my sight, 
Thy face once more to see. 

Thy forehead broad, and white, and high, 
Thy raven locks so smooth, 
The bright, expression of thine eye, 
Vrould win an angel's love. 





— • 


7G 


POEMS. 




And yet unto my lonely heart, 
it often sends :i gloom, 
For fear thou some day will depart. 
And leave me all alone. 


! 
i 


And yet I can, I will not breathe, 1 

I'hese words into thine ear, 

Yet if for other climes you leave, 

My soul will love thee thei'e. 


1 

1 


1 know these linex will some day fall 

]>eneath thine earnest gaze; 

Yet still the source though rievcr^kno\v!;. 


1 


I"ll leave thee in amaze. 


i 

( 

1 

1 
1 


Now farewell idol of my heart. 
Though often, v/e may meet. 
No tear shall greet, no sigh impait. 
Though I'd caress thy feet. 




WHERE TF^RST^ MEET MY LOV- 




I was sitting on a grassy mound. 

All by the rivi'et side,. 
And listening to its murmuring sound, 

And its rippling waters glide. 


1 
1 


I was not iiitei-rnpted — no, 

For I was all alone. 
And it seemed unto my spirit ko. 

That joy was all my own. 


1 
i 


Just then 1 heard a footstep 
Closi- n earing to my side, 

And looking up I started. 
And tried my face to hide. 


1 


Eut Oh! he was so handsome. 

i blushed to see him smile; 
And when he spoke so earnest. 

He won my heart so wild. 


i 


lie came and sat beside me. 
Upon that grassy mound, 

And when he said he loved mc, 
j^Iy heart with joy did bound. 


( 


lie clasped my hand so closely, "" 

His lips upon my cheek, 
And said he loved me only, 

I blushed, 1 could not speak. 


' , ' 



/ i 



For when I looked upon him, 
His face was briglit and gay, 

I lioped I'd surely won him, 
I'll ne'er foi-get that day. 

Though close my lips I then did seal; 

Yet in my heart, I loved,- 
I tried my blushes to conseal, 

And still lie saught my love. 

Composed for my friend, Miss Addie S. to pre.L'nt to 
Lover. 



AN ACROSTIC, T. G- UNDERWOOD- 



The wheels of time moves swifth^ on, 
Thy span of life will soon be gone, 
Yet on thy brow no cloud of care 
Time's left,no trace -or sorrow there. 

Gathering storms will sometimes come, 
When thou hast wandered far from home, 
Hut there is One whose watchful care 
1 trust v/ill guard thee everywhere. 

Unseen the plain lies out before, 

AYhich some hath trod with footsteps sort; 

Shrink not, but draAV thy mantle round, 

Thy shivering form in duty, peace alone is found. 

Ne'er shrink from storms but let thy laurels be 
A well fought battle, and a perfect victory, 
A crown for wdiich thou art ever toding now. 
Will then be placed u])on thy manly brow. 

Destined to toil mid care and pam, 
Philanthropy will sure reward thy toil again: 
To love thee, sui-ely all will count it meet, 
And earth will pour her treasures at thy feet. 

Euj-aptured with thy ever grand, success, 
Thou'lt feel a calm, within thy youthful breast, 
But' ne'er forget from whence those blessings came, 
And pause, and love, and praise the givers name. 

Kemerabor, when the night was dark and wild. 
Who Avatched thy trembling form and sweetly smiled 
And bade the roaring tempest cease to beat; 
And cried forgiven — he bows at Jesus feet. 

A\" ho, Avho, more worthy then can ever be. 
To now receive thy matchless praise than He 



POEMS. 

Who died himself, that you mig-ht ever hve, 
lie who a jvare a perfect ransom gave. 

Onward, upward, be thy constant histing cry, 
Let it ever echoc through the vnulted sky, 
I^cdcemed, I now am saved b}^ grace devine, 
I now can call that blessed Saviour mine. 

O hear the echoes vibrate, and rcvibrate now, 
Stan shouts, arch ancrels at His feet doth bow. 
While praise is ever newly bursting forth, 
Thy love doth sw^eeten earth and lleaven both. 

Down the golden streets you'll soon be flying, 
And anon hear the bright An<?els crvinii', 
No more denth, the flowers never wither, 
Ijlossed, faithful come up hither. 



Tp-ie Drunkard's Wife- 



It is wdth a chill of horror and dread that I repeat those words, "A 
drunkards wife." No wonder that I would shrink from him who 
holds the wine-glass in his hand, and looks with delight upon the 
contents of the same ; and I think when I am done writing, each 
heart will re-echo the sound, "No wonder! No wonder!" 

It v\' as springtime — the flowers were in their primitive glory ; 
the little songsters were warbling their sweet melodies within each 
leaf's bower; and the little brooklets, as if to eclipse their beauty and 
music, ran sparkling and dancing with graceful ease down throngh 
the shady gr;ve into the meadow, as if laughing at the artist who 
would try to paint its beauty, or describe its onward flow. I was sit- 
ting vrithin my summer house watching the rich, gorgeous hues of 
each beautiful flow^er, as the sun crept noiselessly into the bower and 
kissed each beautiful patal, and played silently at my feet. I was 
all alone, and of course, thought was busy M'ith the memories of, the 
past and the gleamings of the future. While thus alone, I heard a 
light footstep approaching me. I looked ;'round — it was my much 
loA'cd Lula 'Weston. "O, Lula, I am glad to see you!" I said, (for I 
was ahvays glad to see her,) but this evening I felt an unusual sensa- 
tion of joy at her appearance, for I was all alone. She came with 
her usual bi'ight, merry laugh, ami took a seat near my side ; throw- 
ing her small, lilly-white hand into mine, she exclaimed, while a slight 
blush stole over her cheek : "I am to give this hand to Frankie next 
Tuesday, and wish you to be my attendant! Will you come?" 



POE^IS. 79 

Looking up at me, while her bright, black eyes cl.ancing with delight, 
"Will you come?" she again said, witliout giving time for an answer, 
"We will have a nice time.'' "Certainly I will," I responded, "with 
much pleasure, as we are old classmates, as well as schoolmates ; and 
feel myself complimented to be invited." We talked and laid out 
'plans for the next Tuesday, until the sun w&» closing his golden eye 
behind the western horizon when we parted. 

Tuesday morning came. I awoke bright and early. The tiny 
dewdrops were sparkling pure and bright upon eaclr opening flower, 
when I left my home for that of Lula's. It w s not long till I 
ai-rived (it being but a few miles.) I was conducted to my room to 
p;'e});ire, It was not long until I was ready for the parlor. I was 
conducted thither by my partner, who met me at the do>.)r. They 
were all seated. He proposed taking a seat at the opposite side of 
the room, so as to give the groom and bride a nice view. And it was 
a scene wo.th beholding. Frank Hewitt's face was a handsome one, 
but that was his least attraction ; so bold, genial, and kindly his^air ; 
so engaging his manners, so cheerfully sublime his every word, that he 
held everyone spell-bound who came within the sound of his voice. 
But notice that image at his side, dressed in all the redundance o^ 
fashion, sat Lula Weston. She was of medium higlit, her face was 
rosy, dimpled and charming ; her I'aven ringlets flowed in rich abun- 
dance around her lilly-white neck and rounding shoulders ; her arms 
were half exposed save a heavy bracelet; and as her small hand was 
drawn carelessly through the arm of her betrothed, it looked almost 
like a snow-fleak, it was so soft and white. They were in truth the 
handsomest pair I ever beheld. At last the minister came. The 
marriage rites were performed — they Avere man and wife. Congrat- 
ulations were lavished upon them in rich abundance ; many valuable 
pi-esents were then j'^'^sented. They took a sumptuous repast, and 
were off for the Falls. The road and lanes were full of buggies, and 
carriages, while the fiery steeds were chomping their bits and im- 
patient to be gone, I could not go; and now Lula [and I must part 
(for she 'A^as going to ber husband's home in the far West.) I wished 
her a pleasant journey and a hai)py home (and araid so much joy we 
wept) ; I gave her a long, parting kiss (and it was a parting kiss.) 
I saw her as Frank handed her into the carriage. He got in ; the 
door was closed and they were gone. I watched the long pro- 
cession go out of sight in the distance. I turned and walk- 
ed into the stately room. All was silent — not a voice, 
not a footstep save that of ray own, (for her mother had sought the 



so POEMS. 

so itiilo of her own rooiu. o give vent to her feelings ;uirl "the fatlier 
had gone with her.) I sat chjwn and looked all arounl ttiu; there 
were the vaces filled with tiie rarest flowers while the zephyrs from 
a thousand opening flowers poured in through the half open win- 
dows and fanned my glowing clieeks then I pondered to my self 
where, and when will Lula and I meet again? * Ten long 

wearied years had passed av,'av sinee the marriage scene and I again 
visited the old homestead. It Vvas summer again, but wjiere were the 
oecupants of that onee happj^homc. Mother dead. Father gone to a 
world nuknown, and after examining every room of the apartment 
which was empty, save an old woman in one desolate loora, I went to 
the parlor, but alas ! all was gloom no vaces, no flowers, no sweet scen- 
ted zephrys, all, all was gloom, all sadness. From thence I went to my 
o\yn old home looking at the sad change there, then I wandered to 
the spring where those old oaks stood, as fresh and green as they 
did ten summers ago, holding their stately heads so high, as to almost 
dazzle the eye of the beholder, while they stretched their strong 
limbs out in the distance yielding a goodly shadow to all who might 
wish to recline beneath the ample shade. I sat there some time 
musing on the past; of the happy days of my childhood, and the 
pleasant hours spent beneata those oaks, I then wandered far into 
the orchard adinh'ing the rich abundance of luscious fruit that was 
there, and thought how in childhood I had wandered there with 
much loved friends who yfore so many of them gone, I next went 
to the summer bouse and sat down on a rude rock, (for the seats 
were long since gone,) where ten long years ago Lula Weston, had 
come to me with her bright face and merry smiles; and tears unbid- 
den rose and followed each other in quick succession down my cheek 
as I thought of her and her bridal day, for I had long since learned 
that Frank Hewett had fallen a prey to the cursed cup; though I had 
never seen either of them since the bridal day. Yet I wandered 
what h^d ever become of them for re[)ort liad said long since th; t 
they were comii7g ba(dv to some of her relatives. And wiiile sitting 
there thinking of her appearance tlie morning of her maiTi;ige, of her 
bright smiles and merry tones of joy together with her gi-aceful ap- 
pearjince, cultivated manner?, Avhich a Queen on her throne might 
justly have envied, and with liow much pride she seen'ierl to look on 
him whmo she had chosen for her protector, and with wliat pri<le and 
admiration did Frank look at liis bride ; — and now to look at tlieni 
by imagination, a drunkard and a drunkards wife ; it seemed imj)os- 
sible, and I^wandered if I would ever see them again. AYhilo thus 



POEMS. 

studying I was disturbed b) a little footsteps at iny side, and look- 
ing up I saw a little girl of about six summers, she was fa,ir, her eyes 
uncommonly black, her face thin and pale, she was half exposed to 
the suns scorching rays, her hat tattered and worn, her hair which . 
was in a tangled mass down over her high vvhite forehead. I almost 
started to see such a picture of woe. She said: "I was hunting some 
one to go with me. I am a stranger and don't know where to gc > 
wont you go with me ? mother is dying, Oh ! my Motlier and Fath- 
er is drunk on the floor and asleep, and I can't wake hini, and I can't 
see my mother die alone ; come, come quick for she is dying." She was 
sobing from incessant weeping. I arose and followed her. I tried 
to comfort her, but she would not be comforted. I asked hev her 
name and mid sobbs she said: Jennie lie wert — where do you live, 
she pointed her thiiV pale hand to a little hovel at the foot of a hill, a 
short distance from us, I shivered, I asked her her mothers ' name 
she said Father calls her Lula, I call her mother, my licart alriiost 
stood still when the sudden truth was forced upon me, it was Lula, 
and tliis was her child. I could not speak for some time, but' tears 
hot burning tears bathed my face in a moment, it was so beyond a 
doubt, this was my friend and she was dying. I concealed the emo- 
tion from the child, in a few momenty hunger 1 was in 
the door and my feelings as I stood there I 
can never forget, there in the floor of that wretched hovel lay the 
l)cdy of Frank Hewett, drunk, and aslce;>; and his wife dying there 
on a scaifold, in a darkened corner, no bed, only a little straw v/ith 
a few pieces of bed clothes laid onit and one small pillow, that held 
the dymg head. Her face was pale.-^hao^ga^rd .a^ji.d, ,thi^, |ier long raven 
tresses lay in a dishevclt-d map on iiei' -small -jjj.ljow: Her wasted 
hands were clasped and her eyes half closed, her thirl coi I lips mov^ 
ing as in prayer, she had not seen me, and as I gazed I said to my- 
self, can this be my owndoyed, Lula — it Mas a siubboin truth, and it 
pierced my inmost soul like an arrov/. I c:-tpt noiselessly across the 
floor and stood speechless, almost senseless, gazeing on that form, 
though only a wreck, you could sti 1 trace the lines of a once beauti- 
ful ediiace Those rounded shoulders, and I'eaurifulty moul led 
arms were almost all exposed for want of clothes. As soon as I could 
compose m5^self to speak, I called her name as I always did Lula, 
She opened her eyes, gazed at nie a moment, she knew me; a look of 
joy and gratitude, as v;ell as of pain and angnish, were mingled, she ! 
lisped my name, it was low and weak, yet there was still remaining 
some of the wanten sweetness of other days. Once more I impressed 



82 POEMS. 

a kiss on those death cold lips, — how different from the one I last im. 
pressed, how changed the scene, but it now was the last for she was 
dyiag. She burst into a flood of tears as she pointed to that object 
of pity lying on the floor, that is Frank she murmured, and there still 
remamed some of .the exquisite sweetness of voice; how sweetly could 
she still call that name, and said bring him here I am dying. I went 
to see him, but it was with difficulty I aroused him, there he lay, his hair 
matted and brown, his face rinkled, his eyes sunken, his limbs palsied, he 
was a mere wreck. He looked at me in astonishment, but said noth- 
incr. I told him Lula was dying, he rose slowly and went to her bed, 
he looked, he did not weep for all sympathy was gone, he was abrute; 
she looked at him then raising her thin hands to heaven prayed 
Father forgive — she was gone the secret s^^ring of memory had been 
touched, which lifted the flood gate of sorrow, submerging her soul 
in grief's bitter waters, — and she was gone. I stood and as I looked 
upon that awful scene I thought to myself Avill this ever be my doom, 
God forbid. 

Yes, God forbid I should ever be,j 
A drunkard's wife— what misery, 
What want, and woe, must sure attend, 
Without a guardian to defend. 

I tremble when I see the maiden fair, 
With laughing eyes, and golden hair, 
And the one who woo's her, will take a''sip, 
To lighten his spirits and reden his lips. 

Oh watch that youth, he may promise fair, 

To be a man with might, with cheerful air, 

But he looks on the wine when it sparkles bright — 

Be sure his hopes will go out in night. 

Now spurn him, love him not I pray, 
'Tis beauties blight, 'tis loves decay, 
'T;s honor's reck, 'tis forturnes fall, 
God pours his vengence on it all. | 

Where is that man of might to-day. 
That took a glass, and then would say,, 
I spurn a drunkard, — what a woe, 
A drunkard's life I will forego. 

I only take my glass, and then, 
Go out and pass with other men, 
I Avill not drink too much you see, 
' I spurn a drunkard's miser3^ 



POEMS. 

But only wait n year or so, 
And see the weak, and see the woe — 
A bloated face, a bloodshot eye, 
A mortal mass of misery. 

N"ow where is the mansion — the bride so fair? 
The satins and jewels that were flashing there? 
And where is the noble man at her side, 
With dignity, beauty, and love alied ? 

A dying wife — all, all alone, 
A husband asleep — O, what a doom! 
A child all frantic with des})air, 
"Watching her mother dymg there. 

Bright angels waft that spirit home — 
What a wondrous change from that sad gloom ! 
To the great white throne of God above. 
With the angels in light to sing His love. 

Wake np ! Wake up ! on the dirty floor ! 
You will see your angel w'lie no more ; 
The one that was once your happy bride, 
With want and hunger, and grief, hath died. 

Brush back the disheveled locks, and see 
The depth of your sin and misery ; 
At first, it was only a gla?s with a friend ; 
But where will your woe and misery end ? 



A POETICAL ENIGMA. 



An enigma, here I send, 
And if a moment you will lend. 
And look at every figure close, 
There's eighteen letters here exposed. 

And if you will be careful too. 
To place the figures 1 and 2, 
And 8 and 15, you will find 
A distant, yet a pleasant land. 

Eleven, and 12, you next will place. 
And 16, 14, 15, 13, all in the same race; 
Aud if the 5 you will not miss, 
A gentleman's name you^ll find in this. 

My 3, IG, 1 and 3, is the beginning of a word ; 
The 13 and the 18 now will finish as it should, 
And make a name of such a man of power — 
His men the world could almost scower. 



POEMS. 



My 1, 2, 8 and 4, doth so plainly now set forth, 
A token of God's holy wrath, - 
That when the 6 and 18 comes in, 
A portion of His Word hf.gin ;. 

Now my 6 verse does so begin 
That when my 8, 12, 10 and 2 comes in 
That if the 6, 9, and 15 are in line, 
The name of a villiage you will find. 

My 8, 2, 12, 15. 13 and 1 is the sweetest name on 

earth, 
One that will cheer us round the hearth, 
One that will make the stubborn will 
Grow gently, and with love our hearts will fill. 

My 10, 2, 17 and 7 is where all classes meet 
In merriment and converse sweet. 
And the name of a mountain you will find 
If the 15 is not left behmd. 

IMy 15, 2 and my 8 doth often learn to man his 

fate, 
But if you'll place the 16 straight 
The happiest place on earth you'll find; 
Inhere kindred heaits are always joined. 



oft 



our 



My 11, 12, 4 and 10 is wliere we 

have spent. 
And asked our friends when they have spent 
A happy day with us and start, 
I'or we di-like witli them to part. 



mind 



AN IMAGE- 



There is an image I can ne'er 
Drive from breast, though oft I fear 
That some day I have to roam 
From thee, and always be alone. 

At early morn thine miage bright 
First greets thee with the morning light, 
And jo)', and gladness seems to spread 
Like angel whisperings round my head. 

At noon-day, when I fain vvould rest, 
Thine image then is ne'er to bless, 
My thoughts then turn to one loved dear 
And wish that she was ever near. 



i :: — 


POEMS. 


8o 


At even when my task is douo. 
My bliss hath only then begun, 
Fur then 'tis rest to think o^ thee, 
Although thou wander far from me. 




And when at night sleep may'demand 
A soft closed eye, and folded hand, 
Thiue angel form doth then appear 
To sweetly drive away each fear. 




Thou, thou alone hath got the power 
To make me happy every hour, 
Thy smiles alone can comfort me, 
Thy love alone a solace be. 




Cat 

Ik 

1,11 

An 

1 


1 there be found so pure a heart 
ng to meet and never to part, 
love thee dearest while I've breath ' 
d clasp thee to ray heart in death. 




MY MUSE AT EVEN- 


I am sitting all alone, Willie ; 
The sun is shming bright ; 
The flowers are opening fully, 
And yield a sweet delight. 


1 


My thoughts are flitting on, Willie ; 
I'm thinking of the past. 
Sometimes I think I'm silly — 
These pleasures may not last. 






And though ray thoughts fly fast, 
And sometimes shadows come ; 
Yet many a bright and fairy feast, 
C'omes to me while alone. 




1 


Willie, 'tis then I dream of thee, 
With eyes of brightest hue ; 
And form so full of grace ; so free 
From guile, and ever true. 






I would almost bow to such a throne^ 
Immaculate it be ; 
jevnd gladly clainr thee for my own, 
And almost reverence thee. 


1 




But then a fear doth oft arise, 
That thou wilt not be true ; 
Then could you think I'd idolize 
One^ that indiiference shows. 




1 



86 POEMS. 

Far from it — I would idly spurn, 
Each thoiight, each care for thee, 
And bid at once, my heart return 
From such a wretch as thee. 

Nor would I let one tear deface, 
The lustre of my eye ; 
But let it then more joyous trace, 
Thy faults before passed by, 

I then would careless pass thee by ; 
Indifference feel at heart. 
And steal to thee a smile so high, 
Th-it it would freeze thy heart. 

And then I'd say at last farewell, 
And try to happy be; 
But to my hopes 'twould be the knell 
Of all that's dear to me. 
Composed by request of a friend. 

WHY DO YOu"stAY AWAY? 

If you had never dared to sa}^. 
My heart you'd early woo. 

You* then might say, "I'll stay away. 
And she' will love me, too." 

1 cannot love, but those above, 

AVithout I see their face ; 
When you can stay, so long away, 
^ And not come near the place. 

Your chance to go is bad I know. 

And this I could excuse, 
But then, to stay so long away. 

And all without excuse. 

A word to me you never say, 
"Why, on me you never call,,' 

But very coolly stay away. 
And never send a scroll. 

A line to me — why O, my day ! 
! 'Twould be absurd indeed. 
To call on a poor girl and say : 
"Of your friendship I have need." 

That's right — there's many a one I know, 

That's richer far than me ; 
But if there's one that's better — go, 
And never look at me. 
Composed for my friend, Miss CM., for her lover. 



POEMS. 

Love- What is it? 



Love — wliat is it ? for Ave hear 

The word repeated oft ; 

And hear the sound, both far and near, 

In accents low and soft. 

LoA-e — what is it? I would know, 
If you will be so kind ; ? 
Speak quick, if you can tell me so, 
And ease my troubled mind. 

Love — what is it ? I would turn 
ITnto the aged now ; 
For feeble words I -never spurn, 
But with delight I bow. 

I ask the strong man as he looks 
Upon the maiden fair : 
And quails before her timid look, 
What causes all thy fear? 

Go ask the maiden as she stands, 
Close by her lover's side ; 
Why thus caress his sunburnt hand, 
When asked to be his bride. 

Tis love, they both will answer me, 
Tis love alone they say, 
Tis love that caused me thus to see 
And guides me every day. 

Love is a passion of the soul, 
Twas handed down from heaven, 
By shining angels it was told 
To mortal man 'twas given. 



The Power Of a Smile. 



I Avill never foro-et that smile O no! 

It is fresh in my memory still. 

As it beamed on me sojue weeks ago, 

It cheered me then, and it cheers me stdl. 

I will never forget tli.it smile. 

Twas just as the sun was sinking low 

TJehind the western hill. 

And it seemed to me the marble brow 



SS POEMS. 

Grew brighter and bri2;hter still. 

I will never forget that smille, 

I will never torget that smile, for its power 
Was strange and strong to me, , 
It has lightened and cheered my heart each hour. 
Though thy face I caiinot see. 

I v»dll never forget that smile 

I had oft seen a smile before 

Playing bi'ight on that manly brow, 

But it seemed to me that the smiles of yore 

Were all eclipsed and forgotten now, 

I will never forget that smile. 

It was so mild, so much like thee, 

That it could but awaken love. 

And I carelessly turned that you might not eee, 

That you might not know I loved. 

I will never forget that smile. 



FORGET Me Not 



Forget me not at silent eve, 
When Luna's beams so pale, 

Peep down through glen and grove 
O'er mountain hill and vale. 

Forget me not at early morn 
When the great King of Light, 

Shall burstthe far off clouds of East, 
And close the dismal night. 

Forget me not, when you behold 
The fcuid delight of spring — 

When flowers bloom on every hill, 
And birds so sweetly sing. 

Forget me not, when fortune smiles, 
Though I be far away ; 

When pleasure's cuj^ is full. Oh, Miss! 
Forget me not, I pray ! 

Wilt thou not lay tljis with the gifts, 
Ot fond friends far from thee? 
And prize it for the giver's sake, 
Thy absent friend W. C 

Composed and presented to the author by Trof. 
W. A. C, 



POEMS. 89 

Is It True- 



This night the gay are all around me, 

Light merry laughs are heard, 
And friends, kind friends are meeting, 

Around the festive board. 

And when I look around me, 

And see such merry smiles, 
I wonder if there's one that loves me. 

That thinks of me the while. 

Does he know, that in his presence. 

There's so much joy for me, 
And when from him I'm absent, 

I cannot happy be. 

Does he know how oft I meet him? 

In fancy's wide domain. 
And with smiles of love I greet him, 

Clasping his hand again. 

Does he think of me when he's lonely, 
Does he think of me when he's gay. 

Does he think of me when he's strolling 
With others? by night, or by night? 

Does he know how fondly I cherish? 

Each thought, — each memory of him. 
Thoughts, love, for all others perish, 

All, all other smdes yield to him. 

For oh his beauty's the rarest, 

That was ever by mortal possessed; 

His brow is surely the fairest, 

That by maiden, was ever caressed. 

And to know all this love, and this beauty. 
Is bowing humbly at my shrine. 

To honoi, to worship, is duty; 

Could, could I be other than thine? 



AN ACROSTIC' 



I will be true tilMife shall end, 
Will be thy true and lasting friend, 
Be consecrated unto me, 
True as I've always been to thee. 
To speak as plain as heretofore, 



90 POEMS. 

Thee will I love and thee adore ; 
For I have loved with heart sincere ~^^^^ 

[' I will comfort, help and cheer, ' " j 

Will all thy paths with garlands twine, 
Be sure to make tiiy wishes mine, 
Thy vows unbroken you will see, 

'■ ■ Bride of thy youthful days I'll be. 

Composed by request. 



A NAME AND PLACE. 



Hast thou a place — Oh Father! for my name? 
j- A name to live forever! I have tried, '- ^' 
The pomp of wealth, the panoply of fame; 

And Father! lo thy child has been denied 
A place within them; hast thou a place for me 

A place of endless fame? Lest my cry 
Come up oh Father! unto thee; -i ' \^'. 

Give me a name — a name that cannot die. 

Make to thyself a name, my child, 

Make to thyself a name; 
But make it not in glittering gold, 

Nor yet in earthly fame; 
These to the fleeting earth belong. 

These bare the thorns of strife — 
Make to thyself a name to stand 

In the Lamb's Book of Life. 

Author unknown. 



My Sisters- 



My sister dear: 

Their voices now, I seem to "hear, 
And from mine eyes there falls a tear, 
For to my hfeart their memory's dear, 
Though seperate far. 

My sisrers dear: 

There down beside the ripling brook. 
With never changing word, or look; 
A constant star. 

Composed by my Brother Mr. James E. Stephenes, April 
loth, 1870 at Kennesaw Ga, 



POEMS. 91 

ONLY SIXTEEN. 



Oh, what is your age? — now tell me kind Miss ? 
For in matrimony I think there's great bliss ; '■' 

To ask such a question, I think you're quite pert, 
But I'm only just sixteen, not answering you short. 

I tliink that the gents are quite witty these days, 
Whether going to church, to ball, or to plays , 
If you happen to chat a few moments, they say : 
"How old are you, Miss? Not twenty, I pray?'' 

They'll take up a paper, and ask us to read ; 
Which, oft to deny them, we regret it indeed; 
Then they say that our eyesight is failing, you know. 
When we are only near-sighted — Oh, that will not do ! 

When we comb back our gray locks, so fine and so sraoothe, 
And enter the jjarlor, there will some of thenl move, 
And give us a chair close down by their side. 
And ask us so sweetly ; "Will you be my bride ?" 

And just as the kind v/ords £re dying av.'ay, 
They will clasp our hands tightly, and then they will say : 
"I had forgotten to ask you your ao;e, now, I pray?" 
Then, with blushe.5 so deep, we'll say : "Sixteen to-day." 

The Blighted Home- 



Lines in memory of Dr. J. T., and Mrs. Julia A. Lattner, who died August 
3,nd .September, 1887. By request of their children- 
Life is uncertain— our friends cannot stay ; 
Like the dew on the mountain, they all pass away; 
Like the foam on the river, swift washing ashore ; 
Like the bubble on the fountain, we see th^^m no more. 

Yet weep not, i<>nd children, for thy parents thrice blest ; 

From all sorrow and suffering, tltcy now are at I'est. 

How meekly they bore their afflictions while here ; 

That with Jesus, their Saviour, bright crowns they might wear. 



How blest is the ])('ace of that bright, happy shore. 
Where sin, and temptalioiis, and sori'ows ai'e o'ei" ; 
^^^'_^There, to l)o re-united in mansions of light. 

Where they ne'er will be }>arted— their love they will plin'ht. 

'^i'f We know thou art lonely — no father to guide ; 
'-fl'No mother to checu- thee on life's rugged tide ; 
Cy -'^^^ strong arm of affection to shelter thy forms : 
No mother to counsel, in life's darkest storm. 



92 POEMS. 

They were worthy that tears be shed on their tomb ; 
Yet weL'p Tiot, as those who look through a gloom ; 
For behind the dark cloud the sun shineth bright; 
And thy parents yet liveth, in regions of light. 

Look upward, dear children, meekly kissing the rod ; 
Thou knowest He loveth — ^thy Father, thy God. 
Lay hold on His promise — a Father I'll be ; 
A light in the darkness — dear lambs, follow me. ^ 

O. may you all meet where partings are o'er, 
Shouting, Victory! Victory! on Canaan's bright shore. 
JVIay not one be lost, but form a bright band. 
On the shores of deliverance, forever to stand. 

Where the sweet-scented camphor p)iirs, forth its perfume 
And the roses of Sharon perpetually bloom; 
And the cedai-s of Leb.nion, and evergreens sweet, 
JVIake an ample sweet shade wliere tlie family meet. 

Who would not exchange the dull thorns »f time. 
For bowers celestial, for joys more sublime ; 
Where fruits never wither, nor friemls pass away ; 
Wliere love beams forever, in regions of day 



I DREAM OF THEE- 



My thoughts go out at early day 
To gaze beloved one on thy face. 
And when tny head adowa [ lay 
To sleep; thine iraagedast I trace. 

And then in dreams thou comest to m3. 
To sweetly bless the honrs of rest. 
I sit in fancy close by thee, 
Or fold thee warmly to my breast. 

My lips to thine T seem to press, 
Tiiy breath I feel upon ray cheek, 
While thy mild eye a love exj)ress, 
Which vvoids are all too weak to speak. 

Xor envy I one sa;il that lives, 
While thus I think and thus I dream, 
The joy siinreaie thine imige gives. 
Are sweet and pure as fountain stream. 

]\Iy spirit dear one always yearns. 
To hold Communion blest with thme, 
My heart all sweetly, warmly burns 
And longs to call such treasures milie. 



POEMS. 93 

But Oh ! believe tis not alone, 
Thy fonn and face I deai-Iy prize; 
Though fair to me as any known, 
And sweet the beaming of thine eye. 

I prize, I love thee for thy g-ood 
And feindly feelin g-s of thy heart ; 
If not for these thou never couhl 
Have been to rae what thou art. 

Ah ! bless the hour when first Mve met, 
And bless the hours of jay we've passed. 
Sweet hours their bliss will lin<i;er yet 
Like fragrant blossoms to the last. 

T'resented by Prof. M. to the author-, tbeiii Milwc ^^^Ress 
Stephens. 



Pray it Down[ 



Piompted by reading the beautiful poem of Mr. Vincent, "Vote it down/' in 
a March number of our excellent paper, The Advertiser. 

BY ROXIE M.W BARRErr, OF WHIT'E COUNTY, GA. 

The poem of Mr. Vincent, which appeared in the columns of our 
loved Advertiser, touched a tender cord in my heart, which beats in 
unison with his heart on the subject of teroperance, although I never 
saw the author; and I think it must have awakened admiration in 
Qvery noble, manly breast wlierever it found its way. Will not every 
man who is pure and noble, with willing heart and ready hand, step 
up to the polls and help vote the fell monster from this happy land 
of ours ? God help you all so to do. We, as women, cannot g'o to 
the polls and help "vote it down," but we can go to our closets and 
hel]) pray it down. Will you pray as you go to vote ? We will all 
pray for you while you are gone ; and He who heareth in seci'et will 
reward openly. And I do feel assured that every tendei' temperance- 
loving lady's heart will beat in glad response to mine on this great 
important subject. Let every lady ni this land, this heaven-l)Iest 
and of ours, who ever prayed — yes, and those who have never be- 
fore prayeil, bow the suppliant knee and hoi}) us to pray for the once 
noble, but now fallen fathers, husbands, brothers and sons of this 
beautiful, , happy land, till peace and temperance shall spread their 
balmy wings over every household. Father, help us pray with the 
faith of Elijah, as he stood all alone among the worshipi>eTS of Baal 
and prayed to his God untd fire descended from heaven and burned 
on his altar in sight of that idolatrous people, and the heathen altars 



94 POEMS. 

fell before the burning shrine, and Elijah's God was victorious. The 
very same God rules the universe now, and though we may stand 
comparatively alone, if our prayers arise in the same faith, the fire 
froru heaven will desceuil on our altars to the consumption of all sin 
and drunkenness, and the shout of Victory! victory! rise triumph- 
antly over the head of all opposition, and will be echoed and re- 
echoed all over the land, and to Israel's God be all the glory. We 
know that we are weak, but Thou, O God, art strong! help us in this 
great struggle by a mighty visitation from Thy hand. Visit the 
stiller in his low, darkened hut, while all alone, at the raidniglV: 
hour — Oh, Father, visit him, but not in wrath — but visit him with 
Thy soul-awakening spirit, and let a i-ay of light divine burst upon 
his dark, benighted soul, that he may see the awful condition he is' 
in. May he, as he adds fuel to the furnace to distill the liquid fire 
to burn up his neighhors, soul and body, may he stop and consider 
that he is only adding brands to the furnace of an awful hell already 
too hot for his poor immortal soul. May he look down as it were 
just below the burning san<ls beneath his trembling feet, and see 
there, in that awful abyss, the tluinder-forge of God's eternal righteous 
wrath, the souls of the stiller, the dram-driidver, the drunkard, the 
murderer and the murdered, seething and wreathing in those sul- 
])huric flames from which there is no escape. And may he fall on 
his knees and never rest until he finds pardon. And may he put out 
the lire, turn over the still, go home to his family and tell 
the glad tidings. May he take up the Bible and go forth 
preach the gospel to a lost and ruined world, for surely if one will 
rise from the stilhhouse, other stdlers will repent; and may stillers 
become preachers, — drunkards, di'am drinkers, moderate drinkers and 
barkeepers become christians, and may the stilbhouses all be torn 
down, and churches of ihe living God be built on the ruins thereof, 
and may a mighty wave of salvation burst forth, that will spread all 
over this land, and righteousness, peace and joy reign universally, for 
wh.ich let us all pray: 

Pray the curse of liquor down, 
Pray it down — 

Curse of ,^soul and high renown. 
Pray it down; 

When to your closets you may go, , 

Ladies strike one mighty blow, 

Lay the fell destroyer low. 

Pray it down, Pray it down. 

ITydra'monster, darkest sin. 
Pray it down, , 



Luring father, brother' in, 

Pray it clown, 
Trap for thoughtless tender feet, 
Through the country, through the street; 
Dread is the doom of hell you'll meet, 
Pray it down, Pray it down. ] 

Prayer King, thy sceptei- sway, 
[ Pray jt down, ..^,.' is " 
Drink brings murder, blood and crime, 
Banish it from every clime, ""i " H 
By your prayers, oh power sublime, 
Pray it down, Pray it down. 

Pray for righteousness and peace. 

Pray the traffic down, 
Pray the inebriates swift release, 

Pray the traffic down; 
Pray against the licensed still. 
Against illicit, pray with will. 
Pray to save, and pray to kill; 
Pray the traffic down, pray it down. 

THE END. 



LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 




